The Good Ones
by Dlbn
Summary: Tainted souls were a dime a dozen. Pure souls were much rarer. After all, he always preferred the good ones.
1. Kelly DiMartinez

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Daughters of the Moon or anything else contained within. That all belongs to Lynne Ewing. I make NO money off of writing in this category.

000

Kelly was your average, every day cheerleader. Pure liveliness and the uncanny ability to cheer up almost anyone that crossed her path combined into one powerful Cheerleading Captain, and an all-around permanently peppy person. After all, she had looks, brains, popularity, an amazing boyfriend, a wonderful family; what more could a girl ask for? As the days into her sophomore year in high school droned on, she realized just what she was missing. Excitement. A break from the reality she was bound to and an escape into a world she had only heard tales of. Her desire for excitement and adventure is what drew her to an otherwise seedy club on the other side of the river, so to speak, in West Hollywood. _The Dungeon_. Just the name itself was enough to cause her best friend Elizabeth, Lizzie for short, to chicken out on going at the last minute and resort to attending Planet Bang's teen night as the girls usually did. Venturing to the club on her own, Kelly was quickly overcome by the allure of drugs, alcohol, and sex that permeated throughout the club and the line leading into it. Dressed casually in a short green skirt and pale tank top, Kelly stood out like a sore thumb, a big sore _green_ thumb, amongst the black and otherwise Gothic crowd and ambiance that settled in the club. The feeling of fear crawling up her spine was almost enough to drive her out. _Almost_.

"They always find their way in here, don't they?" One girl bemused, her hair held in place and dazzled with pink glitter filled hair spray.

"Pretty little girls with pretty little faces, perfect little families." Another agreed, giving Kelly an once-over disdainfully.

The cheerleader blushed, self-conscious all of a sudden, and was about to vacate the club; go running back to Planet Bang and tell Lizzie how incredibly _right_ she was and vow to never set foot in that death trap of a club ever again. Then she saw _him_. Leaning casually against a back wall, arms folded over his chest, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. He was obviously not alone; if the two males with too many piercings and not enough decency weren't with him, it would have shocked her. They were practically hanging off his arm, being shooed away by him with a flick of his head and a toss of his already tousled blonde bangs. Piercing blue eyes stood out from a handsome, rugged face dotted with barely-noticeable stubble along his chin. He was somehow…beautiful. Dangerously so. She wasn't aware that he had moved until breath was ghosting along her neck.

"A strange place for an innocent little lamb to wander, don't you think?" An obviously _male_ voice greeted her.

She suddenly felt too naked as she turned to spot the gorgeous blonde behind her.

"Who says I'm innocent?" She says smoothly, full of bravado she didn't really feel.

He chuckled. "You're not fooling anyone with your act, little lamb." He informed softly. "This is hardly the place for someone such as yourself. I'd vacate before someone decides to make you into their next _meal_." He nods ever so slightly to his pierced friends against the wall, who she was certain by now were ogling her backside.

"Perhaps some people should learn self-control." She huffed. "I'm a girl in a skirt. So what?"

"You don't get it, do you?" His brow furrows ever so slightly. "This isn't the place for a good little girl like you, lamb. Come back when you think you're bad enough."

Embarrassment flushed through her veins as she scrambled to escape the building and the people in it. What was she even _thinking_? Going into a place like that willingly was not something that a girl like her should do. He was right. She _wasn't_ bad enough for a seedy place like that.

Lizzie was unexpectedly forgiving that Kelly had ditched her, and simply grateful she had come back from her encounter with the _damned_, as both of their mothers would put it, safe and unharmed. Kelly didn't tell her about the gorgeous blonde whose voice both made her flesh crawl and her stomach flitter with excitement. A girl like Lizzie could never understand that rush.

000

The days went by and turned into weeks. The routine stayed the same, but the thoughts did _not_. The gorgeous blonde from The Dungeon appeared in Kelly's thoughts most days. She couldn't tell her boyfriend Paul just _why_ she was spaced out in science class and didn't hear when their teacher said to pass up their tests. He'd shun her for it. Call her an adulterer, a cheater, a _whore_. A boyfriend was acceptable. Thoughts of another man while you were with said boyfriend was not. The Dungeon wasn't a place for girls like her, and the blonde wasn't the kind of guy a girl like her should have been consumed by. She tried not to stare as she spotted him walking down Monreau Avenue one summer day while she and Paul were on a double date with Lizzie and her new boyfriend, Robert. His stark black attire and rowdy friends were hard to miss, and even Lizzie had noticed them walking down the street; causing as much noise as humanely possible for a group of guys. The one with dyed-blonde hair gave her a sideways stare and a smirk as he passed, causing her to fight off a blush in response. It wasn't until the three boys vanished into the high-volume traffic of the street that a word was spoken.

"Men like that are the reasons _why_ our mothers warn us away from boys." Lizzie drawled, stirring her low-fat vanilla latte with her straw. "Lowlifes."

"How do you know they're lowlifes?" Kelly questioned. "You don't know them, Lizzie. Judge not, lest ye be judged yourself."

Lizzie sighed. "Cut the crap, Kelly." She ordered. "Just _look_ at them. All that black and all those piercings just _can't_ be healthy."

"Relax, Lizzie." Paul told the slightly younger girl. "It's not like either of you would ever be dragged down into _that_ kind of lifestyle. You'll never see them again."

"Hopefully." Robert agreed. "They seem like the kind of guys that would prey on girls like you."

"Good little schoolgirls being corrupted by the local bad boys?" Kelly laughed. "It's like a Nicholas Sparks novel!"

"Such a romantic notion." Lizzie stated with a huff. "More like mumbo jumbo designed to fool girls like us into going to guys like them."

Kelly sighed. There was no arguing with her friend on the matter. She was startled when she heard '_Little lamb'_ float lazily across her mind in the same tone the blonde had spoken to her in the club.

000

She had to know who he was. This had to stop. She hadn't even gotten a _name_ from him, and yet he was there in her thoughts; ever-present like a warning from one's mother to not to talk to strangers. And he _was_ strange. He and his rambunctious friends all were, honestly. Kelly even surprised herself when she donned all black attire and made her way back to _The Dungeon_, hoping to get a glimpse of him again. Sure enough, he was there with his friends from before, and a couple other guys she didn't recognize. Leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest and a cigarette precariously perched between his lips, he looked like something out of a Catholic schoolgirl movie about resisting temptation.

_The devil wears black_. She bemused.

"I'm hardly a devil, little lamb." His voice breathed across her neck once more.

She turned quickly towards him, having not noticed him leave the wall yet again. How had he done that?

"Whoever said you were?" She wondered innocently.

"You did."

"I did not."

"You sure thought it, did you not?"

She blushed. How could he know her thoughts?

"You're a step closer, little lamb, but you're not bad enough. Not yet." He stated. "You may want to vacate the premises. I can't guarantee your safety if you do stay."

"My safety?"

An arm looped around her neck. "Yeah, safety." A voice chided. "Couldn't you hear him, sweetie?" It was one of his friends from before, the one that had smirked at her back on Monreau.

"I heard fairly well enough." She snorted, pulling away.

Who did he think he was? Touching her like that without her consent or even knowing who she _was_.

"See, guys like us don't care." He went on. "Guys like us scoop little girls like you up into the shadows, never to be seen or heard from again, and guess what? We don't _care_. Here today, gone tomorrow. Just another face in the crowd. You'll be replaced sure enough. Someone edgier, someone a little more daring." He chuckled. "That's just the way things go. We're predators."

"And you, little lamb, are just the kind of prey we're looking for." The blonde's eyes flash with something she doesn't recognize.

Mortified, she dashed into the crowd; enough to hide and yet enough to hear.

"God damn it, Tymmie, you scared her off." The blonde sighed, as if he didn't really care and just wanted an excuse to yell at his friend.

"Yeah, sure, it was me." Tymmie huffed. "Didn't you feel it? Your eyes flashed. Don't point the finger, because four more are pointing back at you."

He saw it as well? Kelly quickly slipped through the raving crowd and out into the cool air. Just who were these people? The dyed-blonde was Tymmie, she knew that enough. But Tymmie wasn't who she was after. They may have thought themselves to be predators, but they'd soon find themselves ensnared in her web.

000

She was getting distracted, they said. She wasn't focusing on her work, they said. Rumors flew from the mouths of those not fit to speak them as Kelly botched up yet another cheerleading practice after school in the fall of her junior year. Her coach, a sweet old lady who was obviously reliving her glory days through coaching the squad, pulled her aside after practice was over.

"My dear, is something the matter?" She asks sweetly.

Her name was Ms. Maggie. She was fit more for a nursery school then a high school cheerleading coach, but she was good at her job; acting like a supportive parent to the girls.

"Of course not, Ms. Maggie." Kelly denied, shaking her head back and forth as her blonde ponytail bobbed around. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"This is the third practice in a row where you've had…troubles." Maggie's voice was concerned, caring. "Are you sleeping enough, dear? Too focused on schoolwork maybe? You should learn to relax a little. It will do you wonders." She smiled.

"I guess I _am_ a little overly focused on midterms…"

"Grades are just grades, sweetie. Don't push yourself too hard or you'll lose your very self."

Kelly smiled gently. "I'll try to remember that, thank you."

Maggie nodded and excused her. Lizzie was waiting by the locker room, looking ever so graceful in her schoolgirl outfit.

"You alright?" She wondered. "You seem…out of it…"

"I went back, Lizzie." Kelly whispered, pulling her friend into the locker room by a dainty wrist. "To _The Dungeon_."

"What?" Lizzie was appalled. "Why did you do that? Didn't you learn your lesson?"

Kelly shrugged. "Something keeps pulling me back there, making me want to go back again and again."

"Well whatever it is, get it out of your system and _keep_ it out." Lizzie was genuinely concerned now. "I don't want you to get hurt, and that's exactly what will happen if you continue going to that _hell_ hole in the wall."

"I know." Kelly removed her cheerleading top to exchange it for her school uniform. "I just can't help myself. One more time, that's all I need."

"Okay…one more…"

000

One turned into two. Two turned into three. Three turned into four. She couldn't help herself. She just _couldn't_. Although the blonde and his friends-she'd learned that the other one she'd seen more often was named Karyl-both thrilled and terrified her, she just couldn't stay away. Each time she wandered into the club, they'd say she was closer. Closer to what? To fitting in? To them not seeing her as prey, but a predator? Their equal? She wasn't sure she wanted that, but as she lined her eyes with thick, black eyeliner and matching mascara, she didn't care.

But she couldn't _exactly_ help it when that lack of caring turned into pure anger at Lizzie for telling her mother about Kelly's frequent visits to the club.

"Do you understand what you're doing, young lady?" Her mother scolded, rather loudly, over family dinner. "The Dungeon is _known_ for being a hell pit! And you're walking right into the fire. God doesn't want you there, Kelly."

She tried to ignore her mother's religious-filled rant against the club as her twin baby brothers banged their spoons against their highchairs, and her elder sister bopped her head in time with the peppy music coming softly from her headphones. Her father passed away when she was thirteen. His death had hit them hard; driving her mother further into religion then Kelly would have liked.

"Are you listening to me, Kelly?" Her mother wondered, fingering the bright blue rosary around her neck. "I do _not_ want you going back there! You need to go to confession and ask God's forgiveness. Only He can save you from that snake pit!"

Kelly couldn't help but fume inside while she politely nodded. "I'm sorry, mother. I'll go to confession tomorrow. You're right, I can't go back there."

As she donned a smile and filled her mother's head with false, insincere apologies and promises, she was already planning her next trip.

000

Sitting in a confessional booth three weeks later, after her mother found out that she had yet again ventured to the Dungeon _and_ lied about it, Kelly's flat-covered toe tapped gently on the ground of the booth. The Pastor on the other side of the divider listened in silence as she prattled on about her desire to go back to the club, her desire to know _him_. There was a pause between the two of them after she spoke.

"My child, you are forgiven." He stated smoothly, and she was _sure_ she'd heard that voice before.

But not here.

"It is natural for a young girl to be curious." He stated. "But curiosity killed the cat, my child, and so it shall kill you if you are not careful. _The Dungeon_ is not a place for proper young ladies like you and Lizzie. You'd do best to stay away. Your mystery man, this blonde? Forget him. Focus on other things; Paul, your schoolwork, your family. Fill your head with wonderful things and darkness shall not find its way in. For once darkness finds its way into your head, it shall soon flow into your heart as well."

She politely thanked him for his advice and left the booth, practically skipping out of the Church as she formulated a plan to get to the Dungeon one last time and finally learn the name of her blonde.

000

He was there the moment she arrived. It looked as if he'd been waiting for her; or someone at least. He was in the back of the club by the bar, sans his friends this time. A cold can of beer in his hand almost deterred her, but after seeing him smoke and hearing his friends openly discussing drug usage in front of her, nothing really got to her anymore. Not when it concerned her blonde and his friends.

"The others aren't here." She stated the obvious, scanning the room for them.

"It's just me tonight, little lamb." He practically purred, looking her up and down.

Fishnets covered her legs, and boots with spiked heels hid her feet with the pink painted toenails. A rather _short_ black plaid dress with a lace-up back hid her front from his view, yet gave a nice view of the swell of her breasts at the top of the sweetheart neckline. Eyes rimmed in black and eyelids covered in dark eye shadow fluttered behind a mask of mascara-covered lashes. Her bright green eyes gleamed as she blushed ever so slightly while his eyes roamed her body.

"So you've finally arrived, little lamb." He smirked. "Or should I call you a butterfly? Reborn into darkness."

She huffed. "Save me your cantor." She offered. "Am I dark enough for you _yet_, blondie?"

"Blondie?" He cocked an eyebrow, looking away. He bit his lip gently before releasing it and turning back to her. "_Stanton_." He corrected.

"Stanton…" The name lazily dripped from her tongue.

A smile slid across her black-cherry painted lips. She finally had a name to the face, a name to the man; an answer to the _mystery_. He gently encased an arm around her waist and drew her inwards. Thoughts of Paul and objections to _Stanton's_ touch drifted away as their lips met in a brief, chaste kiss.

"Such a naughty girl." He chuckled. "Won't your precious _Paul_ be oh so _disappointed_?"

"You wouldn't tell on me, would you, _Stanton_?" She likes saying his name. "Not even you are bad enough to do _that_."

"I suppose even I have my limits." He leaned in close. "Kelly?"

"Yes?" Her heart fluttered.

"What if you could have your every desire? Your every wish will be granted, every dream will be fulfilled. Would you do it?"

"In a heartbeat!"

"Even at the risk of your soul?"

She barely thought as she replied. "A small price to pay for such a high payout, _Stanton_."

He wanted to tell her to stop saying his name, stop saying it like _that_, but he didn't. "I could make that a reality, _butterfly_." He said instead, his words almost rushed as if he was running out of time to accomplish his goal. "Would you be willing to risk your soul, _butterfly_? For your every wish and desire and dream to be granted, to be fulfilled? Would you spend an eternity with me…?"

"Eternity doesn't exist." She replied.

His hands gently grasp the chain of the black rosary hidden under her dress. "It does for me. And Karyl and Tymmie? And Maury?" The one she only most recently interacted with, "It exists for them as well. It can for you two. If you let it." He leaned into her ear. "If you're willing to _surrender_ yourself to me."

_The voice wasn't his_.

She should have run. She should have realized something was wrong. Instead, she stayed there in his arms, looping hers around his neck.

"You can promise me all of that, Stanton? An eternity with you, with everything I've ever wanted and desired? Only God can grant something like that."

He smirked. "Then let _my_ God's will be done, and you can have it all."

"Your God?"

_Run_. She should just _run_. _This wasn't good_.

"Mm." He nodded.

"A deal with the devil." She purred. "Such a thing doesn't exist."

"You're too close minded." He touched her temple gently where the glitter sparkled as the strobe lights flashed. "Open your eyes; open your mind and heart. Let it flow through you."

"It?" She wondered.

_Her last chance to escape_.

"Surrender, little butterfly, to the _Atrox_."

Before her jaded, clouded mind could ask what in the world an _Atrox_ was, a vision burst to life in front of her. Visions of future days filled her mind as the Dungeon faded into the distance. She saw herself graduating high school as valedictorian, going to college and being a cheerleading coach. Her creating a family with Paul and three daughters, and being as far away from her mother as possible. Dreams she hadn't even shared with _Lizzie_ exploded to life in front of her. Thoughts of kissing Stanton behind Paul's back, dancing with Tymmie and Karyl and girls she couldn't even identify yet filled her head. As images whipped by her faster and faster, a voice called out from the ever slowly approaching shadows.

"_I can grant you your every wish._" The voice informed her, silky smooth as it glided through her ears…no…her mind? "_I can give you everything and anything you desire, and more. All you have to do is join me._"

It was too good to be true, wasn't it? Only God could grant her every desire, she reminded herself as she grabbed her rosary gently. That's what her mother told her. That's what her friends, her late father, church, school, her teachers, the Bible…they all said the same thing. But yet this formerly unnamed, mysterious blonde that infested her mind and this even more mysterious voice promised her the same. Promised her more than just her every wish.

"_Time is running out, little butterfly._" The voice coos, and this time she's _sure_ it isn't Stanton. "_Will you join me?_"

She doesn't hesitate a moment longer as she breathes out a gentle 'yes'. She wasn't sure whether she said it or thought it, she wasn't sure of _anything_ anymore. The visions in front of her shattered into darkness and she was snapped back to reality. The sights and sounds of The Dungeon flooded back. Stanton's arms were still around her, a beer can still in his hand. But somehow, she felt strangely _empty_. She grasped at her chest, as if feeling to check to see if her heart was still beating.

"What you're feeling is a loss of hope." Stanton brushed loose blonde curls from her delicate, pixie face. "It will go away soon. The feeling will, but the emptiness won't."

"Loss…hope…?" She could barely form words.

He smirked. "You're one of us now, butterfly."

As his lips met hers and darkness took over, she was gone.


	2. Yvonne Tucker

Dlbn: Back with another chapter!  
Nbld: Warning. Hints of rape and a discussion of said events as based on the way rape law was back in the 1950's. Any and all resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or any events, is purely coincidental. Read at your own risk, or skip this chapter if you'd like.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Daughters of the Moon or anyone in it. That all belongs to Lynne Ewing. I make NO money off of this work of fiction.

Disclaimer 2: Yvonne's boss, friends, and family do belong to me. That is all.

000

Guys like them didn't fall for girls like her. Guys like them didn't even _look_ at girls like her. She was sure of that, but she couldn't help but let her blue eyes linger over the trio of males sitting in booth three. Gliding over easily on roller skates, Yvonne gave a bright, cheery smile from her pink painted lips. Blonde hair was pinned up and out of the way, a few loose curls tumbling down her neck. She set down a brown serving tray.

"Three steaming orders of scrambled eggs and bacon with hot toast, two hot coffees-one with only milk and one with only sugar-and one black tea." She greeted them.

The two sitting together gave her an amused look. The blonde across from them smiled gently at her as if to apologize for his friends' behavior.

"Quite a memory." The brunette grins at her. "And yet wasting her life away as a waitress. How sad."

She smoothed out her pink poodle skirt and smiled gently. "It's not wasting your life if you enjoy it, darling." She informed, taking the tray. "I hope you enjoy your meals. Give me a holler if you need me." She skated off, ignoring the stares she felt on her backside.

"What creeps." Another waitress commented softly as Yvonne stopped at the counter with the empty tray.

"Amanda, be nice." Yvonne ordered. "They're customers!"

"Mr. Lancington doesn't even ogle us like that." She nodded softly towards their boss.

He was sitting at the far end of the counter, eyeing the girls over the top of his newspaper as he smoked. He was a large, balding man with dark brown eyes, and an attitude as repugnant as his scent.

"Yes, but they're _customers_. You have to be polite. What if they call you for help?"

"With the way they're looking at _you_, they won't even bat an eye in my direction, doll." Amanda huffed, taking an empty tray and skating to a recently vacated table to clean it.

Yvonne ignored her and helped a couple to the empty seventh booth. The rather rude trio laughed as the dyed blonde whistled crudely at her while she passed. She rolled her hazel eyes at them and apologized to the couple she was seating.

"I'm ever grateful for your attention, however, this is a family establishment." She gestured to a couple families with children and currently seething fathers, "I, and everyone else here, would appreciate it if you saved the rudeness for after hours."

"I'm _so sorry_, Miss." The one who whistled spoke, his words dripping with sarcasm. "I won't do it again, I assure you. Sorry to offend." He extended, rather loudly, the fake apologies to the families she had pointed out.

She rolled her eyes not buying it, but thanked him anyway and turned to leave. A hand grasped a little too roughly at her backside and she squeaked, turning back to face them angrily. The brunette was sheepishly waving at her as his friend sitting beside him laughed. She wanted to slap him, but she held back.

"Do you _mind_, sir?" She wondered.

"I'm not a 'sir', lady." He stated.

"Karyl, quit it. You too, Tymmie." The quiet blonde finally spoke.

"Hey, what did _I_ do?" The dyed blonde wondered as the other sulked for being scolded.

"My apologies, Miss." The blonde stated.

"Sorry…" Karyl muttered.

Tymmie rolled his eyes. "Sorry, though I didn't do anything…"

"You whistled." Stanton stated. "Stop."

"But."

Stanton gave him a look. Tymmie slowly closed his mouth into a pout, doing as the blonde ordered.

"It's quite alright." She sighed. "Just tone it down, _please_." She skated away.

Amanda sighed, pulling Yvonne closer by the arm as she got to the counter.

"You've got guts, girl!" Amanda giggled. "I could never stand up to them like that…"

Yvonne shrugged one shoulder. "Sometimes you have to stand up for what's right, Amanda." She replied.

She couldn't help but toss a look back over her shoulder at the table, giving the trio a gentle glance. The blonde, quite obviously the boys' leader, gave her a small smile back. She couldn't forget him for the rest of the day.

000

Yvonne gently pushed the now unlocked front door of her home open. Her fiancé hadn't shown up to pick her up after work, so Amanda's father had dropped her off after picking Amanda up. Yvonne put down her pale pink purse and pranced through the house, skirt flailing around her. It didn't really surprise her that her fiancé hadn't shown up, as his work had been keeping him late rather recently. She wasn't too surprised. He was one of the most demanded lawyers in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She considered herself lucky that she had met the bachelor before anyone, including her much prettier elder sister, could sweep him off his feet. Her sister had found a good man, a doctor, a few years later and they were set to be wed three months after Yvonne and Kevin were. Yvonne paused at the top of the staircase as she heard noises coming from the bedroom. It sounded like Kevin was moaning. Was he injured? Or sick? Was that why he hadn't come to get her?

Yvonne quietly crept up to the door to their bedroom. She heard the bed moving a little as if he had shifted positions. The poor dear. Maybe he _was_ sick. She went to the bathroom and retrieved a rag that she quickly wet with cold water and draped over her wrist to carry to the bedroom. She gently pressed the door open.

"Kevin, darling?" She wondered. "Are you alright? I heard some moaning. Are you sick? You didn't get me after…" She paused, halfway in the doorway and halfway in the room.

The sight before her made her drop the rag, and clench at her chest in shock, grabbing at the purple heart-shaped medallion he had bought her for their anniversary a month prior. Her other hand flew to her mouth to both cover her shock and prevent bile from spewing out. Kevin _was_ in the room, but not laying down in pain as she had assumed. Instead he sat at the edge of the bed with his trousers around his ankles. Her elder sister knelt between his slightly spread knees, Anastasia, her lips poised gently around the head of her husband's most private area, that even Yvonne hadn't seen yet. Her baby blue poodle skirt was hiked up to show her pale pink panties and her shirt was pulled off the shoulder to show off her creamy skin and the lacy pink bra she wore under her shirt. Kevin's nimble fingers were twisted into her pale brown hair, holding her in place. His shirt was on, but it was unbuttoned and the cuffs to the sleeves were undone. His mouth was open slightly and a light sheen of sweat was trailing down his chest and well toned stomach.

Time seemed to freeze as the three of them exchanged worrisome, troubled glances. Anastasia was the first to move, quickly pulling her skirt down over her legs to hide her shame and fixed her shirt. She pulled back and glared as if Yvonne was the one at fault.

"Don't you know how to knock, 'Vone?" She wondered in a huff. "We were _busy_."

Kevin was a bit more ashamed at the predicament his fiancé had caught him in. he hastily buttoned his shirt and pulled his pants up to cover his shame as well, but the damage was done. Yvonne looked away as hot tears burned at her eyes.

"Kevin…" She muttered softly in distain. "Annie…how could you?!"

"Yvonne, allow me to explain…" Kevin began slowly.

"I don't want to hear it!" Yvonne glared. "I cannot believe what I'm seeing! 'Kept late at the office' my fanny! How long has this been going on? Does Alexander know?"

Anastasia's fiancé.

"Of course he doesn't know, you fool." Her sister sneered, standing and fixing her hair, which was tangled from Kevin's fingers being lost in it moments ago. "Why would I ever tell him? And what _would_ tell him? That your fiancé has a better cock then he does?"

"Stasia!" Yvonne scolded.

Their parents, particularly her late mother, would be appalled at her sister's language.

"What? It's true! Alex doesn't even know what to _do _with a woman like me." She huffed.

"You're no lady! You're a _harlot_!" Yvonne cried.

Her sister ignored her. "All grabby with my breasts. He doesn't even wait until I finish." She ran a hand down her body, finally landing it on her hips. "But _Kevin_, oh, Kevin is a most _wondrous_ lover. He always makes sure I finish first before he even thinks of completing. He's not gentle and slow like stupid old Alex. He does me rough and fast, and hard. Just like a woman _should_ be screwed."

"Anastasia Tucker, that is enough!" Yvonne bellowed. She took three quick steps to Kevin, bypassing her sister. "You've been having…relations…with my sister behind my back? How long has this been going on?"

"Four months." He looked away, not really seeming to care about what he'd done. "It is not as big of a deal as you're making it, Yvonne."

"How is it not a big deal?!" She flailed her arms a little. "The two people I trust the most are messing around behind my back, and it's _not as big a deal as I'm making it_?" She screeched.

"Calm _down_." Anastasia ordered. "You're freaking out for no reason! Maybe if you put out instead of being such a conservative little _prude_, he wouldn't have _had_ to go to me for some loving." She sneered. "Come on, Yvonne, show Kevin the goods, hm?" She reached for her sister's blouse button, only for the younger woman to shove her hand away.

"Don't touch me!" Yvonne ordered. "Who knows who else you've been doing this with!"

"I'm not a _whore_, Yvonne. It's only Kevin and Alex. And once you two are wed, we promised to stop. Kevin here even offered to give my Alex a few lessons."

"You're…you're disgusting! Corrupted!" Yvonne's heart stopped racing now as pure anger filled her. "How could you do this to me? _How_? We've been through so much together, Annie. We're all we had after mother died. Father was withdrawn and…"

"Father never gave us the attention we needed. Of _course_ I'd turn to other men to give me the love and affection my _dear old_ daddy didn't."

He was anything but dear, after their mother died, that was.

"Annie…" Yvonne couldn't help the light tears that trailed from her left eye.

Kevin reached to console her, but she slapped him away. "Don't you touch me either!" She slapped him across the face. "How _dare_ you?"

"How dare _I_?" Kevin snarled. 'How dare _you_!" He slapped her back, grabbing her by the wrist when she stumbled and cried out. "How dare you raise a hand to me, young lady?" He snarled. "I think you better learn some _manners_." He shoved her onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her throat, pushing his knee between hers. She clawed at him to try and stop him.

Anastasia merely stood there, picking at blue painted fingernails. "Kevy, don't get so pissy." She stated, plopping down next to her sister as her fiance's hands loosened before letting her go.

Yvonne gasped for breath as she sat up, only to be pushed back and held down by her sister's hand on her shoulder.

"It looks like Alex isn't the only one that needs lessons." Anastasia grinned wickedly and slid a hand up under her sister's skirt, fingers dancing up her leg.

Yvonne recoiled in horror. "Annie, what are you saying…?"

Kevin smirked. "Lock the door."

000

Yvonne was sore, bloody, and bruised by the time she managed to stumble onto the plantation style front lawn of Amanda's home. A maid who was sweeping the porch noticed her quickly.

"Madam Amanda! Monsieur Blake!" She called, holding up her skirt as she rushed down the stairs to Yvonne's aid. "Miss Yvonne, are you alright, my dear?"

"No…" Yvonne huffed. "H…Help me…"

The front door to the home opened and Amanda's father stepped out, his daughter at his side. He wiped his mouth with a dinner napkin.

"What's the fuss out here Giselle?" He wondered.

"Oh my goodness! Yvonne!" Amanda leapt from the front porch and rushed to her friend's aid.

Her father settled his eyes on Yvonne almost immediately. "Great Scott…"

"Yvonne, darling, what happened?" Amanda fussed, helping her friend from her left as the maid assisted on the right. "Did you run into those creeps from the diner?"

"K-Kevin…" Yvonne muttered.

"Is Kevin alright?" Mr. Blake wondered, offering Yvonne a hand.

She gently took it, knowing that he would never hurt her. He was like a second father to her and her sister, ever since their father took to moonshine when her mother died.

"He…and Annie…"

"What's happened to Annie?" Amanda wondered.

They rushed her into the living room, where she sat on the couch. Amanda sat next to her, holding her hand gently.

"Alright, everyone, calm down." Mr. Blake stated. "Giselle, get me some bandages and cold rags, alright?"

"Right away, monsieur." Giselle curtseyed and rushed off.

"Darling, what on _earth_ happened to you? Should I call the police? Are Anastasia and Kevin alright?"

"They…they did this…" Yvonne was seething as tears flowed. "My sister held me down while Kevin…he…"

"Oh dear lord!" Amanda cried, covering her mouth. "Oh, father…"

He pressed his lips into a fine line. "I'm calling the police." He stated. "Do not tell me know, Yvonne." He rushed off.

"Yvonne, darling…" Amanda ran her fingers gently through her friend's hair to console her. "What happened? Why would they…?"

"When I got home, I heard moaning." Yvonne took a sip from a cup of water another maid appeared with. "I thought he was sick, so I got a wet rag for his head and opened the door…and they were…she had…_it_…in her mouth…" Yvonne burst into tears. "Oh, Amanda, it was ghastly! The things coming out of my sister's mouth!" Yvonne wept. "Oh, you'd never believe! She's a harlot, and adulterer! Oh, poor Alex will be _devastated_…"

"Don't you worry about Alex, dear, worry about you!"

Her father returned with Giselle and what she had gathered for him.

"Amanda, could you please go and await the arrival of the police in the foyer?" He wondered.

"But father…" Amanda's eyes pleaded for him to let her stay.

He sighed. "Oh, alright. Miranda, would you be a dear?" He turned to the second maid.

"Of course, sir." She curtseyed before leaving.

"Now, there's only so much I can do here." Mr. Blake stated. "The police will have you examined, so I need to be careful. I can clean up these arms and that pretty little face of yours, alright?"

"I don't want to fuss…" Yvonne whispered. "I want this whole ugly mess to just…just go away…"

"Hush now." He ordered, gently cleaning a wound on her right temple. "I know the police technically can't do anything about it due to the laws, but we should at least have a record written, and…"

"Wait, father." Amanda stated. "Does this mean that Annie and Kevin won't be _punished_ for what they did?"

"I'm sorry, darling, I know it's unfortunate and unfair, but that's the way things are. Yvonne and Kevin were betrothed."

"So this is alright?" Amanda stood angrily. "Father, they can't simply…"

"They can and they will. Hush your tongue, Amanda." He ordered.

"…Yes, father…"

Yvonne blushed madly as her friend's father cleaner the wounds he could without causing the police any troubles. Inside, she was both deeply upset and fuming mad. How could her sister _and_ fiancé, the supposed love of her life, _do_ this to her? First they were having an _affair_, then they worked together to have Kevin rape her, all because she got mad and slapped him? It wasn't fair! And now, Amanda's father was telling her that the police wouldn't _do_ anything about it? This was absurd! They had to be punished.

She answered questions the police asked as quickly and as calmly as she could, given the circumstances. The officer promised to go and speak to both Kevin and Amanda, and said that if Yvonne did want to press charges, she could, but at the risk of being ostracized for it. She was willing to take the risk, but she wasn't exactly surprised when, before the officer offered her the option and the warning, Mr. Blake slipped a large bill into the man's hand.

000

The proceedings following her report of the incident went as anyone would have thought. The local doctor checked her out, gave her some medication, and sent her on her merry way back with Mr. Blake and Amanda. When Kevin showed up at their plantation to retrieve her, Yvonne was only slightly surprised that Mr. Blake hit him and sent him packing. It was known all over town that such a thing had happened and that it was Yvonne herself that had reported it. She was chastised by some of the other ladies in town. Anastasia hadn't gotten off completely free either. She retrieved more disdainful looks from the elder ladies in town. Alex hadn't taken to the news that his wife was having an affair _and_ had helped her lover rape his own wife; her own sister. He broke off their engagement and tried to be a form of moral support for Yvonne, but she kept him at arm's distance; fearful that people would talk. As the days went on, all talk of the situation eventually simmered down before disappearing completely. Yvonne no longer got disdainful looks, but Anastasia wasn't all that lucky. She was an adulterer, as it were, and she had to suffer for it. She tried to be friendly with her younger sister, but Yvonne pushed her away. She was fearful that if she got close, her sister would pull the same trick again; lure her somewhere for Kevin to come and get his revenge. Anastasia moved into Yvonne and Kevin's former home with the man, and announced their engagement three months later. Only a few knew they were only hastily marrying because she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. Yvonne didn't know who she felt sorry for more. Herself or the baby in her sister's stomach.

"Do you have to go, Yvonne?" Amanda wondered.

She, her father, her fiancé Michael and Anastasia's ex Alex, stood at the train station with Yvonne. Unable to handle all the rumors circulating around town and her own sister's horrid actions, she had decided to move up north. A brown suitcase sat at her feet. She didn't want to leave her friends behind-they'd been very kind to her, taking her in and shielding her from Kevin-but she didn't see that she had much of a choice. The local locomotive was making a run up north, as far as Canada, but she planned on getting off when it stopped in New York or Pennsylvania.

"I wish I didn't, Amanda, but I have to." Yvonne stated. "I can't stay in this town anymore. Too many bad memories." She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. "I am truly thankful to you all, and I do hate to leave, but I fear that Tulsa no longer has a place for myself. Too many talk."

Alex smiled gently. "You will always have a home with us, my dear." He stated, kissing her knuckles. "Do stay out of trouble, would you kindly?"

"Yes sir." She curtseyed politely.

"Now what have I told you about calling me that, my little flower?" He chuckled.

"Pardon." She smiled gently.

"I hate to rush on, but I do have to get to the office." Alex stated gently. "Do call once you've arrived, safe and sound, alright?"

"Alright." She agreed.

He kissed her cheek and left. Michael bid his farewells as well and followed Alex off to the hospital, where they both worked. Mr. Blake bid his farewell and offered her good tidings before leaving his daughter alone with her friend. Amanda pulled Yvonne into a quick hug.

"Oh, I'm going to miss you!"

"I'm going to miss you as well." Yvonne stated, pulling away and holding Amanda's hands between her own. "I shall write you every day."

"Oh, you better!" Amanda pouted. "I won't stand for anything less, Miss Tucker."

They giggled.

"All aboard!" The train conductor shouted.

"There's my ride." Yvonne stated sadly.

"Goodbye, my darling. I hope you find what you're looking for up north."

"Thank you, my dear."

They shared a final hug before Yvonne hopped onto the train. She almost slipped, but a strong hand wrapped around her waist and steadied her.

"Careful." A voice that was slightly familiar greeted her.

She gently pushed blonde bangs from her eyes. "Thank you." She stated. "I'm in such a rush to leave that I wasn't being careful."

"Running to anywhere in particular?" He helped her walked down the rows of seats in the train until he found one with two empty seats. "Or…perhaps running _from_ something?"

She blushed. "You don't know who I am?" She wondered. "Are you from out of town?"

"No, but I have been gone a few months." He stated. "I only stopped by to visit relatives. I'm heading back north."

"I'm heading north, too." She bit her lip gently. "I'm so sorry, but you seem so familiar…"

"Ah, perhaps you'd recognize me better if I was sitting in a diner, across from two flirtatious males. One that whistled in your direction and one that grabbed your backside?"

She blinked. "You're…you're that blonde from the diner!"

He smiled gently, his smile dazzling as it reached his almost translucent blue eyes.

"That would be me." He stated. "How have you been, Miss Yvonne?"

"I've been better…"

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear." He offered condolences. "May I inquire as to why…?"

She shrugged, slightly self conscious. "My…um…my fiancé and I…are no longer together."

"Ah, that's unfortunate." He stated. "He doesn't know what he's missing out on."

She blushed.

"Don't worry, I'm not like my friends, I assure you. And I do apologize for their inappropriate behavior that day. They're not quite accustomed to dealing with other people."

"It's quite alright. All in a day's work…my day got progressively worse, if it's any consolation."

"How could it be any consolation when a dear woman like yourself suffers?"

"My, you're a charmer." She giggled. "Oh, how terribly rude of me! You know my name, but I have yet to hear yours."

"Stanton." He offered simply.

"Yvonne Tucker…but you knew the first part already."

He smiled gently. "So, Miss Tucker, care to tell me what it is you're running from?"

"How did you know I was running from something?"

"I didn't."

"But…"

"You just told me, dear." He chuckled.

The conductor asked for their tickets, which they gave, before walking down to get the other passengers' tickets. She waited until he was far enough away to speak again.

"My ex-fiancé, I walked in on him and my sister being…intimate…"

"Oh my." He leaned back, biting his lip in annoyance. "Men like that give us all a bad name."

"I get the feeling that you're not exactly a good guy, either."

He smirked. "Now you're getting it." He stated. "But at least I don't hide behind a mask and masquerade as one of the good guys. I take it this isn't the end of your story, Miss Tucker."

"My sister assisted him in…assaulting…"

"Ah, you mean r…"

"Don't say it!" She pushed a finger to his lips, blushing bright red. She sat back. "But yes." She sighed. "That is what happened…I did a bad thing…"

"It wasn't your fault." He assured her.

"I ignored warnings of Mr. Blake and I went on with prosecuting it. Kevin got off with a slap on the wrist, and Annie…oh, Annie didn't even _care_ about what she'd done. She tried to be my _friend_; even after moving into _my_ home with _him_ and getting pregnant, thus rushing into this stupid wedding of theirs." She paused. "And her ex-fiancé, Alex, the poor man was so shaken up. He hadn't expected something like this. He and I stayed close…" She paused again. "The rumors and the glares and the accusations died down after a while, but Tulsa is no longer a home for me. I can't stay here…so I'm heading north."

"And where do you plan on staying? With family?"

"No, the only family I have is…" She paused.

Were her abusive, alcoholic father and manipulating, betraying, two-faced sister really her family anymore?"

"I don't have any family. Mother died when I was a child." She stated. "Dad's abusive and drunk, and, well, you know about Annie…"

"A harlot." He rubbed his chin a bit. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's the nicest thing you could call her after the stunts she pulled."

"You're not going to the wedding, I assume."

"If I did, I'd only be hurt again. I swear, they've been planning on getting me alone with them again so they can repeat it as punishment for me prosecuting him…"

"Ah, it wouldn't surprise me, after what you've told me."

She nodded and looked away. "What about you? What's your story?"

"It's a long one, my dear, I assure you." He replied smoothly.

"I have the time."

He smiled gently. "Nothing much to say, really. It's just me, Karyl, and Tymmie, for as long as I could remember. We have a new friend up in the north now, Maury, but he's not all that social." He stated.

"What about your family?"

He bit his lip. "Mother died shortly after my birth. I have brothers, but none of them wanted anything to do with me. And father?" He huffed. "Even on his deathbed, he disowned me."

"Oh dear…I'm sorry, I shouldn't…"

"Don't apologize. I pried."

She sighed. "I suppose…so you live with these friends of yours?"

He nodded. "Ever since we were young." He stated. "We don't need much else."

"They're like your family. Like the Blakes were for me."

"Ah, no." He shook his head. "I wouldn't call them my family, and I'm sure the sentiment is shared. We can't stand one another most of the time."

"Family disagrees."

He chuckled. "It's more then that, Miss Tucker."

"Please call me Yvonne."

"As you wish, Yvonne." He smiled gently.

They stayed in silence for a while.

"I thought you were visit relatives…" She spoke gently.

"My aunt is ill, that's all." He stated. "I don't consider them family. They don't want anything to do with me unless they need money or someone's dying."

"I'm sorry…"

"It's fine. That's just how it has to be. A day in the life. Or as they say in Latin, _in die illa a vita_."

"You speak Latin?"

"Fluently." He nodded.

"That's rather rare. I'm pretty well versed in French, myself."

"Parlez-vous France?"

"Oui, monsieur!" She giggled. "A man of many languages."

He chuckled. "You have _no_ idea."

As the train left the station, she pondered just what he meant…and why she had so easily opened up to this delinquent from Tulsa.

000

Stanton had been quite the gentleman on the trip over, much like her Kevin had once been, but he assured her that he was not a masquerader like Kevin had been. She was inclined to believe him, for reasons she didn't exactly know. he had ordered her food for her, escorted her to and from the restroom, and had watched over her as she slept a few hours into the trip. They had conversed and shared laughter the way over. She learned a few things about him, and gave him a few pieces of information about herself. They were almost at the Pennsylvania stop when he offered her a proposal.

"Stay with you?" She wondered, taken aback. "With four unmarried, unwed gentlemen? How crude…"

"It's only as crude as you think it, dear." He stated. "If anyone outside the home asks, you're my sister. No one will be any wiser." He smiled. "It's safer then having no idea of where you're going."

"I suppose that's true…but I don't exactly _know_ you. And your friends are…"

"Pigs?"

"Well…"

He chuckled. "Believe me, they know."

She smiled gently. "I thank you kindly for the offer. I'll get a job and pay my fair share, I promise."

"So is that a _yes_, Miss Yvonne Tucker?"

Her smile grew. "Yes, Mr. Stanton…um….yes sir, it's a yes."

He chuckled.

"What's your last name, shall I ask?"

"I threw my last name away the day my father disowned me." He stated. "It's just Stanton now."

"Then…could I be just Yvonne now…?"

"You don't want to follow in my footsteps, Yvonne. I live in the darkness."

"I'm moving into your home with you and three other men with _no_ idea of what I am doing or where I am, after having been raped by the former love of my life and my own elder sister and being forced to suffer through both humiliation and their scandalous behavior…and you think _you_ walk in darkness? I'm _drowning _in it, Monsieur."

He considered her words, giving her a slightly wicked grin. "You've got bravado, ma'am." He stated. "I like that in a woman. So rare nowadays." He cleared his throat. "Oh, that came out hardly appropriate. My apologies."

"It's quite alright." She stated. "I'll take it as a compliment."

He smiled as the train pulled to a stop.

"Pittsburg, Pennsylvania!" The conductor shouted.

"Ah, this is our stop. Come, Yvonne." He took her by the hand and helped her out, assisting her with her bag as well.

She followed him out of the station and down the road, thinking of how crazy she was for doing this with a man she barely knew. She was almost certain that witchcraft was afoot here.

000

She had been living with Stanton and his otherwise creepy friends for two years. She'd grown accustomed to Tymmie and Karyl's ways of flirting, as well as Maury's cold aloofness. Stanton had changed slightly since she moved in; he was no longer an extreme gentleman, but rather a gentleman only at the right times and when necessary. The ruse that they were siblings worked in Pittsburg and no one thought it strange for longer then a few weeks. The apartment was quaint, other then being a filthy hovel most of the time due to the four men. She had pushed for them to get a television that had come on the market a year before, as it was slowly becoming the next big thing and she didn't want to miss out. She wasn't sure where Stanton got the money for it, as it was apparent that he and the others didn't work, and she knew he didn't take any of her money, but she wasn't going to ask. He often procured the things they wanted or needed rather easily for someone without funds. It was probably from inheritance from his aunt, who he informed her had died a month after he had visited. For a man whose aunt had died, he wasn't overly concerned with it and refused to attend the funeral just to 'sate his family', as he had put it. She hadn't pressed the matter. She kept up with her promise of writing to Amanda weekly, sending them all on a Friday via mail so she would get them in bulk within a couple weeks. Amanda was happy that she was safe and found what she wanted, but warned her to be careful. After all, she'd known Kevin and Annie for years and they'd ended up betraying her. She was sure that Stanton and his friends, who he kept in line as if they were afraid he'd end their lives at a moment's notice, wouldn't betray her, but she promised to be careful. She knew very little of Annie, but Amanda said she and Kevin and their baby, Colt, had moved to Kansas to escape Amanda's persecution from the housewives in Tulsa. It was a small victory, but a victory none the less.

She was flipping through a housewives magazine she had picked up at the local market a few days before, deciding that she and her friends needed to make their dilapidated apartment on the outskirts of town look more like an apartment and less like, well, the hole in the wall that it really was. Tymmie flopped down on the couch next to her.

"Reading again?" He wondered. "Not very fitting of someone who hangs around here."

She shrugged. "_Talking_ doesn't suit someone who hangs around here. Being _human_ doesn't suit someone who hangs around here." She replied. "Yet we are all human and all talk."

"I wouldn't be so sure on the human part, if I were you." Tymmie chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. By now, she was used to his strange sense of humor and terribly jokes that made no sense, but seemed to make Karyl crack up at a moment's notice. The two of them were almost inseparable, she had noticed.

"I'm surprised you've lasted this long, honestly." He told her. "Most of them don't."

"Most of them?"

"Most of the people, most of the _girls_ that Stanton brings around." Tymmie looked her up and down. "

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" She was only slightly offended.

After all, being curt and crude was the specialty of both Tymmie and Karyl. She wondered what in the world drew Stanton to them in the first place. He was much more of a gentleman then they were.

"It means what it does." Tymmie gently took the magazine from her, setting it on the table. "And he hasn't tried anything? He tries to protect you. What makes _you_ so special? After all the girls that have come through here, why are _you_ the special one?"

"Maybe he's just a gentleman…"

He laughed loudly. "A gentleman? Stanton? Honey, your ex-fiancé is more of a gentleman then Stanton will _ever_ be."

Although they'd kept the details of the incident short, Yvonne and Stanton had still told the others, letting them know that there were boundaries that they were not allowed to cross. She slapped him.

"Tymmie, that's _enough_." Stanton scolded from the doorway. "Do what you came in here to do and leave."

"To do…?" She was slightly scared.

He huffed. "Yes, your _highness_." Tymmie pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. "This came in the mail."

She took the letter. "Thank you, Tymmie."

"Whatever." He huffed hair from his eyes and brushed past Stanton, jarring him lightly as he left.

Stanton grabbed him by the upper arm and they held one another's eyes for a few moments before the blonde let his friend go. Yvonne ignored them both and opened up the letter. It was from Amanda, as usual.

_Dearest Yvonne,_

_I still can't believe it's been two years, and you're _still_ with those hoodlums. I know they treat you well and you're fine, but oh, how I worry._

_I write to you this time with marvelous news! After trying for the past year and a half, Michael and I are pregnant! Can you believe it? Oh, I hope it's a little girl that I can dress up in the cutest little dresses, with ribbons and bows, like a real southern belle! Michael wants a boy, of course, to carry on the family name. Don't all men want that?_

_I hope you are fairing well. The baby shower is in two months, on May 17__th__. I do hope you can find the time to come and visit! We all miss you. Michael, papa, and I. Oh, and of _course_ Alex. I think you have a chance with him, if only you'd come home. But I know you're stuck to Stanton and won't leave his side, so I guess Alex will have to wait. He's single, you know. He says he'll only date again if it's you. Girls throw themselves at him, but he ignores them all. You're lucky, darling._

_Father is ill. He'll recover; it's just the flu. He wishes you well and hopes you one day return to Tulsa._

_Love and kisses,_

_Amanda, Michael, papa, and baby to be._

Yvonne felt tears welling in her eyes and rubbed them away. "Stanton, can I go to Tulsa…?"

"Why?" He didn't sound angered, just curious.

"Amanda, my best friend, she's pregnant, and the baby shower is in May. I'd be ever so delighted if I could go…"

He shrugged. "It's your money. Just promise you'll come back for me."

"I shall." She promised.

He crossed the room at sat next to her. "You know, I do enjoy having you here."

"I enjoy being here."

"I heard what Tymmie said. Ignore him, would you? I think he's drunk or something. He seems out of it."

She nodded. "It certainly would _not_ surprise me."

He, Karyl, and Maury had gotten drunk as a skunk the second night she was there. Memories of her father dancing in her head, she stayed awake throughout the night and several days after. Stanton had tossed the males out around five in the morning, noting that Yvonne hadn't slept in a few days, but they had come back. There were often talks about a man named Ethan wanting something from them or giving them orders. She had never met Ethan, but she was certain she never wanted to. He seemed like he was…kind of a jerk. Even worse then Kevin had been. Kevin…the name _still_ made her blood boil.

"Is he there?" Stanton wondered. "You know…_him_?"

"My ex?" Yvonne asked. "Like I told you, he and Annie moved to Kansas."

He nodded. "That's true…what would you do if you saw either of them?"

"I…I don't know…I'd run, I guess…"

"You wouldn't…want revenge…?"

"Revenge?" She wondered. "How could I…?" She thought back to Tymmie's words. "You're not suggesting that we…?"

"No, not that. I don't go for that eye for an eye nonsense." He stated. "But if you could strike back…would you?"

"I…" She paused. "I suppose I would…why…?"

"Let me go with you. I have a feeling someone may show up uninvited."

"How would they know?"

"Oh, they'll know. Men like him have a way of finding out things."

She shrugged. "You can come with me if you'd like, but I can guarantee they won't be there."

"Don't guarantee unless you know."

"Do _you_ know?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. And thank you for escorting me."

"You're welcome."

If she could have seen the smirk behind his smile, she may not have let him go with her at all.

000

She was both completely surprised and incredibly mortified to spot Kevin, Annie, and what must have been their child, at the diner she used to work at, when she returned to Tulsa. She entered the diner with Stanton at her side, ignoring her sister, her new brother in law, and their bastard son. A brunette waitress behind the counter was facing away from them, but heard them sit down and turned around.

"What can I get for you?" She wondered.

"Two peach cobbler. The best thing on the menu, of course." Yvonne answered.

"Yvonne?!" She wondered, leaping over to hug her. "You're here, you're really…oh? Who's this?"

"Stanton." He answered, charmed.

Yvonne could feel Kevin's eyes burning into their skin as they spoke, but she paid it no mind.

"He's security." Yvonne giggled. "Some people in Tulsa aren't as welcoming and friendly as the others."

"Ah, you're Stanton." Amanda nodded. "Pleasure to formally meet you, then."

"Vonne?" Annie's voice wondered. "Is that really you?" she got off her stool and launched onto her sister, hugging her.

Yvonne noticed a bump on her sister's belly and groaned. "Pregnant by the pig again, eh, Annie?"

Kevin chuckled. "Jealous?"

"As if."

"This is your potential niece or nephew you are talking about, 'Vonne. Don't tell me you're still sore."

"You were right about your sister." Stanton informed. "Not a shred of remorse."

"And you are?" Kevin wondered, getting off his stool.

"Stanton." The blonde replied with a tilt of his head. "And you must be the pig Yvonne referred to moments ago, hm?"

"Stanton…" Yvonne whispered.

"Excuse me?"

Stanton stood, crossing his arms over his chest. Yvonne had learned over the past two years that Stanton loved to be challenged to a fight. He seemed empowered by it somehow.

"Don't." Yvonne ordered her roommate. "Yes, he's an ass and deserves whatever you decide to do to him, but not in the diner. There are customers."

"No there aren't." Stanton informed.

His eyes seemed to flash dangerously as families got up and left, leaving money on the tables without waiting for checks or change. Yvonne blinked. Had Stanton done that? The blonde male smirked.

"You were saying, Yvonne?" He wondered.

Before anyone could say more, Kevin took a swing. Stanton stepped out of the way and Kevin sailed past, crashing into the counter. Mr. Lancington came out from the back.

"What in the blazes is going on out here?" He wondered, wielding a steak knife. "Ah, Yvonne, here to beg for your job back?"

"I'm just visiting, sir." Yvonne wanted to hurl.

"Where'd all my customers go?"

"They left." Stanton gave the man a look over his shoulder.

Mr. Lancington paled. "H-Hello, Stanton." He greeted.

"Payton." Stanton greeted with a nod. "I think it's best you go back in the kitchen and let me settle this."

He was cut off as Kevin's fist collided. Yvonne pulled Annie behind the counter with her and Amanda. Her sister grabbed Colt from his stroller and pulled him close.

"Kevin, Kevin, _please_!" She begged. "Don't do this…"

"Oh, so _now_ you object." Yvonne huffed.

"I'm sorry, 'Vonne. It was a stupid mistake. I shouldn't have done what I did. You just…you hit him and made me so mad…"

"I _should_ hit you, but I won't because I don't want Colt seeing." She looked to Stanton, who was already done nursing his jaw where Kevin had hit him.

"You really shouldn't have done that." Stanton chuckled. He took a couple steps closer. "You have a wife and a child, and another child on the way. I suggest you stop acting like a _fool_ and back off."

"Make me." Kevin puffed his chest out.

Yvonne couldn't hear what Stanton said next, not with her ears anyway, but nevertheless knew what he was saying.

_Using violence and weapons only makes me stronger, Kevin Hartman._ The words seemed to whisper across her mind. _I wouldn't do that if I were you. Apologize to Yvonne for what you did to her, and take your family, and leave. And be sure to leave Amanda here a nice 50% tip while you're at it for interrupting her shift._

"Yvonne…" Kevin stated slowly. "I'm…deeply sorry for what I did…It was wrong of me…I was selfish and foolish. Can you…ever forgive me…?"

"Uh…I guess…?"

"What are you saying, Kevin?" Amanda wondered, surprised at the man's actions.

"Come on, Annie, let's go. We shouldn't interrupt the flow of the diner."

"Kevin, you're not talking like you." Annie informed. "Are you okay?"

"I think Kevin is realizing I'm right. He should stop acting like a fool and be a man." Stanton stated, cocky as Yvonne knew him to be. "Aren't you, Kevin?"

"Yeah." Kevin nodded. "He's right. Come on, Annie. Bring Colt and let's go."

"O-Okay…" She agreed. "Maybe we'll see you around, 'Vonne. We're here all week."

"Yeah, maybe." Yvonne nodded.

The couple left with their son, as Annie yelled at Kevin for leaving such a big tip.

"Is that…is that a 50% tip?"

"Fifty percent tip?" Mr. Lancington wondered. "How'd you pull that off?"

"You two know one another?" Yvonne wondered.

"Yeah, army days." Stanton replied.

"You were in the army…?" Yvonne wondered.

He shrugged.

"How old _are_ you?" Amanda wondered.

"How rude." Mr. Lancington chuckled. "Amanda, why don't you go take that tip there, take the day off and spend it with Yvonne, hm?"

"Uh…alright…" Amanda scooped up the tip and shoved it into her pocket. "Thank you, sir…"

He nodded and went back into the kitchen. Stanton nodded at him through the serving window.

"You ladies have some fun. I'm getting some food. Stay safe, and stay away from Kevin and Annie. I'm not sure how long he'll stay nice."

The girls shared a look and left the diner.

"Are you sure he's safe…?" Amanda wondered.

"I'm…I'm not sure what he is, Mandy." Yvonne paused. "But he's done a good job of keeping me safe, even from his friends being creeps. The apartment could be better, but as you can see, he can clearly handle himself quite well."

"I see, but…"

"Let's go to your place. I want to see Michael and Papa Blake."

000

Yvonne wasn't sure what to think three months later when she was walking down the streets of Pittsburg, coming home from her at a local Malt Shoppe, and was roughly shoved into an alleyway with a familiar voice telling her to be quiet and do what she was told. She definitely wasn't sure what to think, but was definitely afraid, when she realized it was Kevin.

"Kevin?" She wondered. "How…how did you find me? Where is Annie? And Colt…?"

"They're back home. I'm here on business." He ran a hand along her face. "I couldn't help but come over once I saw pretty little Yvonne walking down the streets."

She pushed him away."Don't touch me, Kevin!"

He chuckled at her. "I'll do whatever I want, doll." He slid a hand up towards her breast. "Where's your little security guard now, hm? He won't be able to save you in time."

"I don't need to be saved. Leave me alone!"

"Make me." He kissed her.

She kneed him between the legs, causing him to double over.

"Bitch." He cursed as she tried to run. He grabbed her and stopped her.

"Help!" She cried loudly. "Someone help me!" She kicked and punched him, but he didn't let go.

"I'd let her go if I were you." A voice interrupted.

"Tymmie?" Yvonne wondered.

The dyed-blonde, who recently got his nose pierced on one side, she'd noticed, stood at the end of the alleyway, arms folded over his chest.

"Definitely not who I was expecting…" Kevin stated, running his hand up Yvonne's hip.

"Tymmie, help me!" She struggled. "Its Kevin!"

"Kevin, hm." Tymmie smirked. "Yo, Karyl! Looks like Yvonne's little brother in law decided to pay her a visit!"

Karyl joined him at the alley entrance, drinking from an open long necked bottle of beer.

"Ah, hell." He set the bottle down on a cardboard box. "Stanton isn't gonna like this."

"Looks like it lasted three months." Stanton spoke, joining his friends with the much shyer Maury at his side. "Damn it, Kevin, don't you know how to behave?"

"You again. just who I was looking for." Kevin pulled out a knife, throwing Yvonne towards the males.

She stumbled, but Tymmie and Karyl caught her and led her out of the alley.

"You okay?" Maury wondered, offering her a bottle of coke.

"I will be…he's such a creep!"

"He seems it. And that's saying something coming from me." Karyl grabbed his beer and went to take a sip, but Yvonne stole it and guzzled about half of it.

"Ha, girl's a drinker. Who knew?" Tymmie laughed.

"So that's where all that missing beer went…" Karyl stated sadly, swirling his almost empty bottle.

"I'll handle this." Stanton stated, cracking his knuckles. "You four go on home."

"But he has a knife…" Yvonne commented.

The males laughed.

Stanton cracked a smirk. "That just makes me fight harder."

Yvonne closed her eyes as she and the others ignored Stanton's warnings and stayed where they were. She gritted her teeth and tried to pretend they were somewhere else. Pretend that her father wasn't there beating Annie while she hid in the storage closet. Pretend that Stanton wasn't beating the tar out of Kevin, who had just tried to rape her, in an alleyway in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; thousands of miles from Tulsa. The sounds coming out of the alley, of silver slicing skin, of skin slamming into skin flooded her ears as she covered them with both hands. Kevin's knife skid out of the alleyway and landed by her foot. The other males didn't seem to notice, too busy wrapped up in a conversation about what to get for dinner after. She reached down and gingerly took the knife in her fingers. She risked a glance into the alley and spotted the two men at the end. Stanton was pinned to the wall by Kevin, who was poised to hit him, but didn't appear to have any injuries. A slice in his left sleeve showed that he was cut, but no blood fell from the wound. He held a smirk on his face, as if he was enjoying this.

"The more you hit, the stronger I get." Stanton warned. "Just quit now while you're ahead."

Kevin chuckled. "You won't be saying that once I bash your face in, pretty boy."

Stanton cocked an eyebrow. "You think I'm pretty? How kid of you."

"You little…" Kevin hit him and Yvonne could hear his nose crack under the pressure of the hit.

Stanton didn't respond as Kevin's fist disconnected from his face. Yvonne closed her eyes, not wanting to see the bloody mess.

"What the…f…?" Kevin's voice stopped.

"Wanna try again?" Stanton chuckled.

"What in the hell…are…you…?"

Skin hit skin again and again as Kevin repeatedly punched. Stanton deflected a few blows with his arm, laughing it off.

"I thought I told you all to go home." Stanton said.

Yvonne opened one eye. Stanton was bloody, yes, but looked otherwise uninjured. Kevin looked at her over his shoulder.

"Your friend is history, and then you'll be next." He stated.

Stanton chuckled. "You're right. I _am_ history." He stated.

"What the hell does that mean? You're giving up?"

"No…" Stanton smirked. "And neither is she…remember how I asked you about revenge, Yvonne? You have the means, you have the man…how would you like the revenge?"

"Re…revenge…?" She wondered.

"You have the means." He nodded to the knife. "Go ahead. Revenge."

"But…" She paused.

It _would_ feel good to finally get back at this bastard for what he did to her. But hurting him? With a knife? She couldn't.

_Do it, _Yvonne. A voice spread through her mind. _You know you want to. You can't resist. Revenge. Revenge…_

"I…can't…"

"She could never hurt me." Kevin chuckled. "Good girls don't play with fire, do they, Yvonne? Or else they get _burned_."

Something within her snapped at that. Without thinking, she rushed forward and plunged the blade towards him. Kevin tried to block it by pushing her away. They wrestled with it for a few moments before she regained control of the tool.

"Say goodnight, bastard!" She cried, stabbing it into her side and twisting it, like she'd seen in so many gangster movies.

He cried out and tried to bat her away, but Stanton was on him before he could. The blonde held him against a wall by his throat and smirked.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it? Being restrained by someone much bigger then you, _stronger_ then you." Stanton chuckled, leaning in close to the man's ear. "Now do you understand, _Kevin_? I could end you right here, right now." He looked to Yvonne with a little tilt of his head. "Finish the job, Yvonne." He coaxed. "Get the revenge you so rightfully deserve…"

"I…can't…Colt…and the baby…"

"Your sister will be better off without him. She'll find another. Perhaps she already _has_."

"You son of a…" Kevin tried to fight back but Stanton restrained him further.

"She cheated on Alex with you, did she not? What makes you so sure she won't do the same to you?" Stanton wondered. "I've seen it so many times before. Good little boys like you, and good little girls like her…falling for the ones that will play them over again. And the players?" He chuckled darkly. "Just get played." He smirked. "I may not be a gentleman. I'm one of the players, but at least I admit it. I don't get played, I play. And I always back out before I get hurt. That's the way it is." He gently gripped Yvonne's hand. "Just one more flick of the wrist, Yvonne, and you will have your revenge…you will rid the world of this scum…"

She paused. His fingers felt warm on hers. She blushed. Could she really do it? Kevin was a monster, scum…he deserved to be taken down…but could she do it…?

_You know you want to_. That same voice ghosted through her mind. _Kill him. End him. Liberate the world._

Without another thought, she plunged the knife deeper into his side; ignoring the gurgling sounds blood made bubbling up his throat as he bled out.

000

Four years later, Yvonne draped herself across the couch the filled the living room of the almost too small apartment that she shared with Stanton and the others. Her eyes glowed yellow under the threat of the full moon looming outside. Afraid to show her dark side to the world, she hid indoors on such a night. The others laughed at her for it, but she felt it necessary until she could control and hide her dark side enough so she could trick people like she'd been tricked by Stanton and his crew.

Stanton was right. He _was_ a player, and a dangerous one at that. But at least he was up front about it. She barely thought of Kevin, or Amanda and Michael and their daughter, or Annie and her children; the second was a girl. Her life in Tulsa was far behind her, and her life in Pittsburg was slowly fading into the background as she and her squat flittered across the country, chasing Goddesses by the generation. They were currently stationed in Montana. She hated Montana. It was cold and unpredictable; a fitting home for a waitress of a southern belle who murdered her rapist ex-fiancé in cold blood because a devilishly handsome blonde and a voice in her head told her to. Yvonne sighed, brushing her hand through straightened blonde hair and closed her eyes. She couldn't deny that it felt good slicing him with his own knife, seeing his body lying dead in the alleyway before Stanton and his subordinates wrapped her in shadow and whisked her away. It hadn't taken much to convince her to join the Atrox. She was a predator, and people like Kevin were just the right kind of prey.


	3. Cassandra Kline

Dlbn: Welcome back to another chapter!

Nbld: Let's begin with the Review Corner! Thank you Wanagi Moon for reviewing! *hands out cookies*

Wanagi Moon; Thank you very much! They were left with open backgrounds in the series, and I always wondered why they turned. Cassandra is up next, actually!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Daughters of the Moon or anything affiliated with it. That all belongs to Lynn Ewing. I DO own Cassandra's family, classmates, and friend Heather. I make NO money off of writing in this category.

000

Cassandra wasn't entirely fond of the new girl, but she wasn't about to show it. Be a good little girl, keep your mouth shut, and always be polite. Don't speak up or out of turn. Never say no, never shout. Keep your opinions to yourself, don't show any brains you have. Men don't like that. These were the values instilled in her since she was a child, from her very old school mother. Her father didn't seem to argue with it, as he was pretty old school himself. Boys were not allowed in the home. Movies featuring attractive male leads were not allowed, boy bands and male musicians were not allowed, and male models were not for a young girl to stare at. Boys could not be friends with a woman. Dating had to wait until you were eighteen, unless your parents gave him permission first. These were the things she grew up with, thinking they were normal. After all, even her best friend was raised the same way; with the same values. Her parents chose who could be her friend and who couldn't, who she could and couldn't work with on school projects. Every moment of every day was perfectly scheduled to fit and optimize her daily experiences. Tutors were thrown in to make sure her grades were kept up, but not too high that others may find her obnoxious. Not a single hair could be out of place, and everything had to be done on time, with no room for flaw and error. That was the way Cassandra lived.

But this new girl. Kelly something or other? She was something else entirely. She was loud and brash. She gave her opinions even when they weren't needed or solicited. Her grades were poor and her attendance was even poorer. She hung around boys; not just boys, men, seemingly older than her. She wore short skirts and skimpy tops that made the boys turn and stare, and she _liked_ it. She came late to class and left early without warning, she made plans on the spur of the moment with whomever she wanted. Cassandra had never seen her parents, but it was rumored that they weren't around; that she was raised in foster care or by other relatives, maybe even grew up in the streets. She was everything Cassandra and Heather, her best friend since they were in diapers, were not. She left school with boys when Heather and Cassandra went home with their parents; though Cassandra was normally brought to an after school activity or tutoring, depending on the day. Heather's parents weren't as articulate about her schedule as Cassandra's parents were, but to each their own.

Cassandra's three elder sisters were grown and out of the house; two of them married with kids, and one engaged to a reputable man their father had chosen for her. Her younger twin sisters were still under her parents' wings as well, and stuck tried and true to the values instilled in them since birth. Neither Cassandra nor the younger girls saw a problem with how their parents raised them. Her eldest sister, Karen, would tell her stories of how the outside world was cruel, and how she'd seen it turn one too many friends into bad kids. But the second eldest, the one that was engaged, told her fantastical stories of men and women cavorting in a purely platonic manner, of private clubs and dancing girls, of rock bands with male leads that had long, unkempt hair. She'd take her to stores her parents would brush past without even a second glance, though she'd never buy anything there. The youngest of the married Kline children told her sister hushed words of encouragement to get out as soon as she could. To find a job early and save money to escape. Surely their parents would be against it, but it had to be done. She couldn't be oppressed forever. There were places to go, people to see, things to _do_. Massachusetts was a vast, gorgeous place that needed to be explored; as was the world. California and Florida had marvelous shores and seas of blue, the south had sordid temperatures and gentlemen unlike she'd ever seen, New York was vibrant and lively; a world outside of her own. The world needed to be explored, she had been encouraged by her sister.

Cassandra stuck to her parents' beliefs, but the more she saw Kelly at school, the more she began to stray.

000

She was fifteen years old, almost a woman, when Kelly asked her to go on an impromptu trip to New York City in a few days. Kelly had laughed when she had politely declined and informed her that any plans she made had to be preapproved by her parents and booked at least two weeks in advance.

"Come on, Cassandra, don't be a stick in the mud!" Kelly prodded, a little too loudly. "Where's your sense of _adventure_?"

"My sense of adventure is right where it should be." Cassandra stated politely. "Right here, smack dab in the middle of Jane Austin."

It was a school-chosen book that her parents allowed her to read for English class.

"Oh, let me see." Kelly took the book when Cassandra pulled it from her backpack and handed it to her.

She leafed through it, as if interested, nodding and humming as she did so. Without warning, she threw the book haphazardly over her shoulder into the cobblestone walkway to their very expensive private school.

"Hey!" Cassandra protested, retrieving the book. "That's school property." She spoke softer. "Please don't damage it."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "They said there was a reason they laughed at you." Kelly stated, standing and picking at her painted fingernails.

"Laughed?"

"You're unusual, Cassandra. I find it amusing."

She blushed and hated the feeling. "There's nothing interesting about me, thank you. I'm your average, plain, ordinary girl."

Kelly huffed. "In this day and age, that's a rare thing, doll." She argued. "Plain, ordinary girls like you are as rare as the most delicate of flowers."

"And exuberant party girls like you are a dime a dozen." Cassandra huffed. "Your friends will grow bored of you in time and find someone just like you to take your place."

"Oh, I'm _waiting_ on that day, sweetheart." Kelly smirked. "Because that's when I like to pounce the best."

000

It was Kelly's fourth month of school at Beverly Preparatory High School when Cassandra first saw…_him_. A man-devilishly handsome with blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a rugged face-was leaning ever so casually against the schoolyard fence, smoking a cigarette. His hair was unkempt and there was something dangerously rebellious about his dark attire; black V-neck and long, knee length black jacket with the sleeves rolled up to show off his muscles and barbed wire tattoos, dark skinny jeans tucked into black, steel toed boots. He was truly a sight to behold as he ignored the stares from annoyed soccer moms, drooling attention of teenage girls, and death glares of every male in the vicinity. She was sitting at a picnic table with Heather, waiting for her mother to pick her up and take her to her swim meet. They weren't close to one another, but she could imagine that he smelled like smoke and ash and perhaps something else mixed in. A strong cologne, maybe? He didn't look like he cared enough to use any, but you could never know. Boys were a mystery to her; always had been.

"Who is _he_?" She mused.

Heather looked up from the textbook sprawled open on the picnic table in front of her.

"How should I know?" She asked, crinkling her nose. "Ugh, smoking. _Disgusting_."

Cassandra shrugged. "To each their own, I suppose."

"He'll die of some lung disease and have no one to blame but himself."

"How can he blame someone if he's deceased?"

Heather giggled. "Good point, good point." She confirmed.

Cassandra wasn't too surprised when Kelly walked by with a couple of her school friends-the local juvenile delinquents, mostly male-and shooed them away to run to the blonde and fling herself onto him. He seemed annoyed and gently pushed her away, gripping her by the upper arms and leaning down a little to whisper something only she could hear.

"Is that Kelly's boyfriend?" Heather gasped. "Oh, that explains so much."

"He doesn't seem to like her touching him." Cassandra stated. "Maybe they're related?"

If rumors that she was orphaned were true, could this be the mysterious person that raised her? That would certainly make sense.

"Hm, well, they're both blonde, same lack of fashion sense, appear to have the same attitude…I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe that's her brother." Heather wrote something down on a piece of paper.

"What's that?" Cassandra wondered, curious.

"This? Just a little bit of gossip to bite into. I want to get as much information as I can about this guy."

"Don't tell me you think he's cute or something…?"

"Oh heavens no! Now Jacob Morgans? _He's_ cute. This guy is just…interesting. I think we can learn a lot about Kelly from watching him."

"That's disturbing." Cassandra stated. "I don't want to know a thing about him."

Heather shrugged. "Suit yourself. Oh, sh, they're coming over here." She went back to her work.

Cassandra pretended to be interested in the carvings on the wooden picnic table in front of her.

"Hey, you two." Kelly greeted. "I want you to meet my friend Stanton. Stan, this is Cassandra and…Heather, right?"

Heather nodded.

"Don't call me that, Kelly. That's not my name." Stanton sighed, as if used to telling her that. "Hello." He greeted the girls.

"Hi." Heather replied, crinkling her nose. "Can you put out the cigarette?"

"Is it bothering you?" Stanton wondered, taking a long draw from the offending item. "Sorry." He took it out and crushed the end against the picnic table, leaving a mark.

"You can't do that." Cassandra scolded. "You're damaging school property."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You're funny." He stated. "Do I look like I care?"

Kelly giggled.

"Stanton here is the one driving to NYC next weekend." Kelly went on. "I'm telling you, it will be fun. You should go."

"I already told you why I can't." Cassandra flushed.

"You're going to NYC?" Heather wondered. "Oh, I've always wanted to go there…"

"Why don't you come along then?" Stanton wondered. "My car has room for one more."

"I don't think…" Cassandra started to protest for her friend.

"I'll have to ask my parents." Heather blushed.

"Do so soon. We leave Saturday morning at ten. I can pick you up, if they want me to."

Kelly wrote a number on the corner of Heather's homework. "That's my cell number. Text me or all me for details or whatever."

"I'll call you." Heather stated. "I don't have a cell phone yet."

"That's too bad." Stanton informed her. "Come on, Kelly, let's go. The others are waiting."

Kelly nodded. "You got it." She stated. "See you ladies tomorrow. Don't forget to call me, Heather!"

"I won't." She smiled.

Kelly bounced away at Stanton's side, latched onto his arm.

"You can't seriously be considering this." Cassandra scolded Heather.

"Why not?" Heather wondered. "It's just for information gathering. Just imagine how much information I could get about Kelly."

"I don't see why you're so obsessed with getting information about her…"

"She's _interesting_." Heather chuckled. "I mean, come _on_, Cass. How many people like her _actually_ live in this area? A rebellious teenager with a bad attitude and a slew of boys following her? It's practically unheard of. She's a rarity. Isn't it natural that I would want to study her?"

"Not really…"

Heather rolled her eyes. "You'll see. I'll get the best information on her and then you'll see I'm right."

"I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I do."

Somehow, she didn't believe her.

000

It had been a week since Cassandra last saw Heather. After hearing about the impromptu boy-filled trip that her parents let her go on, Cassandra's mother and father forbade her from seeing or even talking to her friend. Talk had gone between them of having Cassandra taken out of any classes with Heather or request that they didn't sit near one another and her father had even suggested she switch schools. Cassandra had talked them down with the help of her sister Alisha, the engaged one, but she was still irritated. How could her parents forbid her from seeing her best, and only, friend? It was insanity!

Cassandra would sneak in little hellos and short questions about her trip to the City before classes started, in classes where they sat next to one another, but the replies were short and not very informative. At lunch, she'd sit at her usual table, though Heather sat a few seats away from her with Kelly and a couple of the guys that followed Kelly like a lost puppy.

"Hey, Cassandra, why don't you join us?" Kelly greeted, waving her over. "Or are you going to let your parents get in the way of your friendship?"

"Of course I won't…" Cassandra stood with her tray and joined them. "Thanks…"

"You're welcome."

"How was your trip?"

"Mm, it was _fantastic_." Kelly took a sip from her drink. "Got to see some old friends we hadn't seen in a while and get some things done, too. Heather here finally learned how to dance like a woman and not a robot."

"You went dancing…?" Cassandra wondered, hating the worry in her tone.

"Yeah…" Heather replied softly with a smile. "It was nice."

"New bracelet?" Cassandra noted.

Heather nodded and showed her.

"We got matching ones!" Kelly giggled. "My friend Yvonne has one, too." Kelly showed hers to Cassandra.

"That…looks expensive…"

"Not really." Kelly shook her head. "Free isn't that expensive."

"Free?"

"Stanton stole them for us…" Heather muttered.

"Stealing? Why didn't you give it back? That's not right…"

"Oh relax. It wasn't like it was some little mom-and-pop thing like around here. It was NYC, one of the big chain stores. They can deal with the loss." Kelly giggled. "I think someone is thinking too much like her parents and not for herself." Kelly poked Cassandra's temple.

"I told him not to." Heather admitted. "But he didn't listen, so I couldn't do much. Yvonne and Kelly were happy, so I can't really argue. I would have had him get you one, too, but…"

"It's fine." Cassandra hated the hurt building in her throat and hoped it didn't come through in her words. "Maybe he would have if I had gone."

"You should go next time. We go once a month." Kelly stated. "But this time we're leaving Maury home. I swear, I've never seen a grown man so afraid of a cockroach…"

Heather giggled.

"Ew…" Cassandra complained.

"It ran over his shoe and scared the daylights out of him. It was kind of funny…" Heather informed, cracking a small smile.

Enjoying another's pain? Keeping stolen property? Going on random trips with people she barely knew? That wasn't her best friend. Heather didn't do those things. She was a good, caring, friendly, considerate girl that abided by the law and didn't make foolish decisions. This wasn't right. Kelly was changing her, and Cassandra didn't like it one bit.

000

She didn't know what hurt worse; having Heather and Kelly become the best of friends, or having Kelly and Yvonne take her place. While shopping for new school shoes with her mother, Cassandra spotted Heather and the other girls walking down Main Street. Gone was the Heather she knew, and in her place was a girl with her hair pinned up, a short skirt, a low cut top, spiked heels, and way too much makeup.

"Cass? What are you staring at…?" Her mother turned from the rack of shoes to follow her daughter's gaze. When she spotted Heather, her brow furrowed and she frowned deeply. "Heather Locklier? It's a good thing we forbade you from seeing her when we did. Look what she's become."

"Just what _has_ she become, mother?" Cassandra wondered. "It's like she isn't Heather anymore. She's someone else entirely…"

"A harlot, a hooker." Her mother scoffed. "I cannot believe her parents let her out of the house like that. It's disgraceful."

"It really is." Cassandra sighed. "I knew Kelly was trouble, but…"

Her mother nodded. "Mm." She confirmed. "Now, no more talk of this depressing topic. I saw a cute little handbag that would go really nice with those new Sunday shoes you picked. Come."

Following her mother around store after store, Cassandra was mortified when she saw the three girls walk out of a tattoo parlor, and spotted Heather sporting a shiny little stud in her left nostril.

000

"Cassandra!" Heather screeched, _beyond_ upset.

"Heather?" Cassandra wondered. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"Damn straight, I need help!" Heather was fuming. "Your _mother_ went to _my_ home and started a fight with my mother! Saying she was a bad mother for letting me whore myself out and all this other nonsense. I'm _not_ a whore. I'm just having _fun_! Something you forgot how to do a long time ago!"

"Heather, I know you're upset, but you don't really mean that." Cassandra hushed her. "Please, stop shouting. People are beginning to stare."

"Let them stare." She flipped her hair over her shoulder, making a few boys swoon. "Your mother needs to butt _out_ of my business, and you do too. You let her get between our friendship; and now she's trying to get between my mother and me. So kindly step off and leave me alone. I don't want anything more to do with you."

"But, Heather, I can't control what she does or tells your mother. I'm sorry, I…"

"I don't want to hear it."

"But-!"

"I _said_ I don't want to hear it!"

"But _Heather_, please…"

"I hate you!" Heather screeched, brushing past Cassandra and rushing off down the hall.

Tears brimmed Cassandra's eyes as her hand flew over her mouth and she ran down the hallway. A gentle hand grabbed her arm to stop her and she turned to see Freddie, a redheaded boy from her math class, gently holding her arm.

"Cassandra, are you okay?" He wondered, pronouncing her name wrong. "I saw what happened. Want to talk?"

"No thank you…" Cassandra muttered shyly, looking up at him from under her eyelashes like submissive pup.

"Are you sure? I know your parents don't want you talking to boys, especially about personal things, but I'd like to help." He stated, rubbing away one of her tears. "You're much prettier when you smile…"

She offered him a pretty little smile that turned into a dry laugh. "She's my best friend…how could she…?"

"She'll get over it." Freddie promised. "Don't let it bug you, okay? She's just…not herself right know, you know? Maybe she just needs space."

"Or an intervention…"

He chuckled. "Right." He stated. "Here." He handed her a tissue from the portable pack in his back pocket. "Go off to class and try and forget about it, okay? Things will be okay, you'll see. Here, I'll walk you."

"Thanks…" She took the tissue and blew her nose into it softly, following him down the hall.

000

Cassandra pushed peas around on the plate in front of her, not really hungry, but too polite to turn down the delicious meal her mother had worked so hard to make. She tried to do what Freddie suggested and not think about the incident with Heather, but she couldn't help that it was festering in her mind; occupying space like one of the fat little garden gnomes her mother had in the front yard amongst the peonies.

"Are you feeling alright, Cassandra?" Her father wondered. "You've barely touched your dinner."

"Oh…yes, I'm fine…" Cassandra replied robotically. "I just had a long day, and I'm pretty tired."

"At least eat some of your food, then you can go lie down, okay?" Her mother wondered. "Cassandra?" She wondered, when the teen ignored her.

"Yes, mother…" She put a spoon full of mashed potatoes into her mouth, resisting the urge to spat them out the moment they touched her tongue.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She prodded.

"Cassy's just upset because Heather yelled at her in front of everyone." The eldest of the twins, Kara, informed. "Miya told me earlier! Her brother overheard it!"

"When did this happen?" Her father wondered.

Cassandra shrugged. "Between third and fourth periods."

"James, I hardly think the issue is_ when_." Her mother stated. "I thought you were told not to talk to her."

"She approached me. I wasn't going to just ignore her. That would be rude."

"She has a point, dear." Her father stated, adjusting his round wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"You could have politely excused yourself, and…"

"Why did you tell Heather's mom that she's a bad mother and that Heather is a whore?" Cassandra wondered softly.

Her mother's ears tipped red.

"Carol." Her father scolded. "Did you really say such things?"

"Her mother needs to reign her in before it's too late." Her mother calmly replied, wiping her lips. "I did not use the term 'whore', Cassandra, and you shouldn't either."

"Heather said that's what you told her mother."

"Her mother must have misheard."

"Not the issue here, Carol." Her father scolded. "You should apologize to Sydney and Dylan for insulting both their daughter, and their home."

"Have you not seen the way she acts? The way she _dresses_? When Heather was a little girl, she always wore those pretty, long, ankle-length dresses and her hair up in pigtails. Don't you remember? She and Cassandra would play with dolls in the sitting room, wearing matching dresses in different colors. Do you not recall?"

"I do, but I hardly see…"

"Now she dresses like…like a tramp! Short skirts and revealing shirts. And that…_thing_ in her nose? That piercing? It's absurd! Where's that little girl we accepted into our home and our lives as the best candidate to be Cassandra's best friend?"

"We're not little girls anymore, mother…" Cassandra butted in slowly. "People change as they grow older. Heather's just…going in the wrong direction."

"Exactly my point, Cassandra. She needs to be reined in before something happens to her. She could get hurt or…or _pregnant_." She whispered the last word.

"Carol, you worry too much." Her father waved her off. "It's just a phase. Soon she'll realize she's acting inappropriately and she'll be back to normal in no time."

"James, please, not this new age 'children will be children' nonsense. I can't believe what I'm hearing from you…"

"I did not say that, Carol. Now drop it, please. This is not our problem, it is the Locklier family's problem, and _they_ will handle it."

"They're _not_ handling it!"

"It's not your place to make them do so." Cassandra objected. "You shouldn't have said anything. Heather hates me now…she says you're trying to get between her and her mother. She _adores_ Mrs. Locklier. It would kill her to have a wedge driven between them."

"I'm _not_ the one getting in between her and her mother. Her _choices_ are doing _that_ for her." Her mother stated. "Now hush your tongue, Cassandra."

"You've always got to micromanage everything and be in everyone's business." Cassandra accused. "Can't you just mind your _own_ business for once?"

"Cassandra, hush!" Her mother scolded. "How dare you speak to me in that manner, young lady?"

Cassandra held back tears. "Don't you care that I'm _hurt_? Heather is my _best_ friend, and she's _still_ Heather in there somewhere. She's just lost!"

"Where are you learning this 'lost' business from? Certainly _not_ your father and me. Who told you this?"

"A boy at school said it…and I think he's right…"

"A _boy_? Talking to boys? Oh, she's falling down the same slope as Heather!" Her mother looked ready to faint.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "He saw I was crying after Heather yelled at me and tried to see if I was okay, that's all. He _didn't_ do anything wrong, and neither did I."

"Cassandra…"

"At least someone cares about my feelings, because you clearly don't!"

"Cassandra!"

The words bubbling in the back of her throat came even closer to the surface, and she bit them back. She would _not_ say something that horrid to her mother. No way. She was _not_ Heather, and she wouldn't sound like her either.

"I think someone may need a little more discipline. We've _clearly _been too lax with you." Her mother accused. "I'm going to get you involved with a church group. They should be able to set you down the right path and make you realize you're wrong."

"A schedule change?" The youngest, Gabriella wondered. "But what about _our_ activities, mother? How come we have to adjust everything for her?"

"It won't affect the schedule, sweetie. We'll just have an extra stop on Thursdays and Mondays."

The only days that Cassandra didn't have every minute packed with an activity.

"Mother, those are my free days! That's not fair!" Cassandra objected. "_They_ get free days!"

"Free days are _earned_, and you've _lost_ the privilege until further notice."

Her father sighed. "I think you're being a little rash, Carol."

"I am not." Her mother denied.

"How could you do this to me? Don't you see you're _suffocating_ me? Don't you care? Don't you _love_ me?"

"Of course I do. Now, hush, Cassandra. I'm doing this _because_ I love you. I don't want you falling down a path of sin like my sister did when she was your age." Her mother frowned. "Now stop fighting me on this. It's happening whether you like it or not. Be a good little girl and do what your father and I tell you. After we're done, you go on up to your room, no dessert."

"I didn't _want_ a stupid old dessert anyway! I _want_ Heather back!"

"She's not _coming_ back."

"And you made sure to keep it that way!" Cassandra stood quickly. "I'm going to my room…"

"We are _not_ done here, young lady. Sit back down."

"_I'm_ done." Cassandra replied.

"But Cassandra…"

"I hate you!"

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Upset and embarrassed, Cassandra raced up the stairs to her bedroom. It wasn't fair! Why was _she_ being punished for Heather's problems? It just wasn't fair…and if her mother was wrong about all this…then maybe she was wrong about everything else, too.

000

She wasn't sure what possessed her to don a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and hop a bus to Boston the Saturday following the fight with her mother, but still Cassandra did it. She remembered overhearing Kelly say something about going to Boston to visit friends, and assumed that Heather would be with her again. She had seen her old friend less and less since the incident, not even running into her on the way home or while out at her activities. Her mother had planned to keep the schedule change and add the church group, but that wouldn't start until next week, so she was free for a couple days more. 'Free' being a relative term, considering the fact that she was brought directly home from school and not permitted to leave the house without one of her parents.

When the bus stopped in Boston and she got out into the transit center for the North Station, she was only a little surprised to spot Stanton amongst the crowd, leaning on a cobblestone pillar near the entrance. She swallowed her fear and gathered her courage enough to go up to him. He had ditched the long black coat and instead wore a short denim jacket. He was still dressed in all black, but converse and a band tee had replaced the boots and plain shirt.

"Stanton?" She wondered gently, hoping it was really him and not just a stranger.

He turned his head ever so slightly and she caught the sight of a cigarette and bright blue eyes that flashed in the sun and knew it was him.

"I'm…I'm sorry to intrude…I knew you guys were coming, I shouldn't have followed…I don't even know why I came here…"

"Yes you do." Stanton argued, holding his face up to the sun.

"I do?"

"You're here for Heather, are you not?"

"Yeah, but…?"

"You said you knew we'd be here. Which means you were eavesdropping." He chuckled. "Such a naughty girl."

"Is it naughty to worry about your best friend?"

"Who already told you she hates you and to get lost?"

"She's still my best friend. She's still Heather…just needs to see that."

"She knows just who and what she is, Cassy." He stated.

She frowned. "Don't call me Cassy. Only certain people can."

He chuckled. "I don't really look like I'm one for doing what I'm _told_, now, do I?"

She shrugged, blushing. "I guess." She cleared her throat. "Where's Heather?"

"With Kelly." He nodded in a direction she was pretty sure she picked at random.

"That doesn't help me, Stanton…" Cassandra glared. "Heather was such a nice, innocent, _wholesome_ girl before you and Kelly got a hold of her!"

"She was boring. Isn't she much more interesting now?" Stanton chuckled. "She was never as innocent as you think, Cassy."

She ignored the nickname. "Of _course_ she was. She loved dolls and ponies, and dresses and shoes, and she went to church on Sundays and never missed a day of school unless it was a serious illness or a family death, she was kind and gentle and thoughtful…and then _you two_ came along, and I don't even know who she is anymore! She wears revealing outfits and pierced her nose, she skips school and doesn't attend Sunday Mass. She skips out on her after school activities and programs, and keeps stolen property and laughs when others are hurt. That's _not_ who Heather is. That's you and Kelly!"

"And Yvonne, and Maury, and Tymmie, and Karyl, and so many others in this world." Stanton sighed. "You live in a fantasy world, Cassandra Kline, and it's high time you grew up and got out of it. You're an adult, not a child. It's time to stop living by your parents' rules and values and start picking your own. Heather's managed to grow up in the few short months we've known her. Perhaps you should spend a day with us. Then maybe you'll grow up, too."

He went to touch her, but she pulled back from him.

"This isn't _growing up_! This is acting foolish and being…"

"Being what?" Stanton wondered. "Your own person, free from the restraints put on you by your parents?"

"No it's…its reckless…it's…stupid!" Cassandra giggled. "There, I said it. I gave you my opinion! It's stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She realized her laughter and stopped, donning a serious expression. "I hate you two for what you did to her…"

He chuckled. "You're not mad at Kelly and me, Cassandra." He stated.

"I'm not?" She wondered. "And how would you know that?"

"Because." He pushed off the column and flicked his cigarette into the bin. "You're not mad at either of us. You're not mad at Heather, either. Or your mother, or your father. You're mad at you."

With every sentence he took a step closer, making her walk backwards; almost tripping off the step from the inside of the station to stairs outside. He grabbed her by her wrist so she couldn't fall as her backpack slipped from her shoulder and hit the ground with a soft thud.

"You're mad at yourself for letting yourself fall behind." He whispered pulling her in close so she could look nowhere but at his eyes. "Your best friend is taking her life in a different, _better_ direction, and you're _stuck_ in one place. Under mommy and daddy's roof, squished beneath their thumbs. And you're _allowing_ it. Rolling over like a _dog_ and saying 'here I am, control me'. And that's _okay_ with you, because you're just so _used_ to it. But you see that Heather is breaking free. She's coming _out_ from under that thumb, living in the real world, making new friends that normally wouldn't give _you_ a second glance. You think she's falling from grace, but she's not. She's falling into her rightful place in the world, while you're being pulled back from your own. _That's_ why you came here. You _didn't_ come to talk sense into her, or scold Kelly and I and the others for our misdeeds, or to save your friendship. You came to see what you were _missing_; to get a _taste_ of it, of freedom. Something you've been longing for, for years, but are now just starting to admit to _yourself_." He smirked. "You're _jealous_, Cassandra Patricia Kline. And that just confuses the living _shit_ out of you, doesn't it?"

He let her go.

"How did you know my middle name…?" She wondered, breathlessly. "What makes you think you're right about all of that? I have no ulterior motives. I'm here to stop Heather from going down a path to hell in the passenger seat of the racecar _you've_ put her into! I'm _not_ jealous. I'm concerned, I'm worried, and I'm a _good friend_."

"If you were such a good, considered, worried, caring friend, then why would you let her fall right into our laps?" He chuckled and ran a hand along the side of her face, making her skin crawl. "She's not the one I was after, Cassandra."

"She…what?"

"You are."

"Me?"

"Heather was already tainted. She wasn't good, wasn't _pure_ at heart." Stanton scowled. "Girls like her fling themselves at guys like me so easily, that it's _disgusting_." He sighed. "But little good girls like you?" He ran his hand down her face to grasp her chin in his strong fingers. "They fight so hard to stay away. To be good and stay away from the big bad boy washed in black. The purity, the innocence…it's endearing…for someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

He nodded once and gave her a devilish smirk. "A man who's lived in the dark so long that he can no longer even see his own shadow…"

"Those who can't see their shadow are said to be dying…" She warned.

He chuckled. "Naïve." He stated. "An old wives tale meant to scare children. Pay it no mind, Cassandra." He ordered her.

"Then what does it mean to you?"

"It's an expression. One that can't die has no expiration date." He muttered.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Does Heather…does she know you're not interested in her…? Do Yvonne and Kelly know…?"

"They all know." Stanton said. "They were both just like you once. Pure, sweet, innocent girls who got a little too close to the shark, and the shark bit back."

"They _all_ know…?" Cassandra wondered. "And they're okay with this…?"

He shrugged. "They didn't have a choice."

"Heather must have objected, at least…"

"Nope."

"What?" She felt her heart stopped.

"Kelly telling Heather about the trip was all planned. An act put together to lure you here, to me." Stanton smirked. "Heather was more than eager to participate after what your mother did to her. Do you understand _now_, Cassandra? From the beginning, you were being set up. Taking your friend in as one of us was only step one. You were quite resilient to my attempts to control your mind. We had no other option. Your _best friend_ just betrayed you."

"No…she would never…"

"She was jealous that I wanted you over her." Stanton chuckled. "Jealousy does terrible things to people, don't you think, Cassandra?"

She bit her lip and held her tongue, not wanting to say anything out of anger. This…this _jerk_! This incredibly evil…handsome…charming…._jerk_! He was completely right, it _did_ hurt that Heather had betrayed her. But that didn't mean anything. Heather must have been tricked.

"Heather was a willing participant." Stanton stated. "All she needed to know was that my eyes were on you. And that was enough to push her over the edge she was so precariously perched on for who knows how long. It's pathetic, really." He ran a hand down her face.

She pulled away. "So…what if…" She was at a loss for words for a moment or two. "But Heather is one of you now…"

"And she will always continue to be. That is…unless…"

"Unless…?"

"Sacrifice yourself to me." He pulled her in by the waist. "Take her place at my side and I will let her go. She'll have no memory of any of this."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I keep Heather, and you can return home to Beverly and live your happy little life under mother's thumb, never really being your own person, and being perfectly fine with a mediocre career as just a housewife." He smiled gently. "The choice is yours."

_Join him_. A male voice she didn't recognize crept through her mind. _Join my congregation and free your precious friend. It's why you're here, isn't it? To save her? _The voice chided. _You can do it. Join him, and I shall make all your greatest desires a reality._

"Join him?"

Did she say the words aloud, or were they spoken in her head?

_Take his hand. Swear your allegiance to the forces of the dark, the forces of evil. You'll finally be free. Be your own woman. You'll never have to worry about your wretched mother ever again._

"Never?"

_Never. Never again, Cassandra. What do you say? Take his hand. I'll give you whatever it is you desire. Your deepest desires that you don't even tell Heather or your secret little diary about._

Images flowed through her mind. Being kissed and held by a man, many different men…Stanton. Enjoying a life full of music and sunshine out in Los Angeles; a place she'd wanted to visit since she was a little girl, but feared telling her mother, thinking the woman would call it scandalous. Dreams of vacationing with her sister in the Bahamas and other tropical places, and a wedding in the sand to a mystery man flowed through her mind. How could she say no to any of _that_? Things she wanted more than anything?

She felt herself nodding before her lips spoke the word she knew he'd been waiting for.

"Yes…"

He cupped her face in both hands and gently pressed their lips together in the briefest of kisses before pulling away.

"Then turn, sweet girl, and face the Atrox."

Darkness exploded from behind his eyes and seeped into her soul. She felt something coursing through her as Stanton held her in place with his strong hands on her face. Her body struggled, her fingers scraped against his flesh, but the blonde didn't seem to be bothered by it. Whatever was flowing through her finally stopped; a dull ache thrumming in her chest. Darkness blackened her vision and a pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared in the darkness.

_Welcome to my congregation, Cassandra Klein._ The voice from earlier spoke.

The eyes blinked out of her vision and the darkness escaped her. She felt it coursing back out through her veins, dragging what it wanted along with it. She was vaguely aware of Heather shouting her name and holding her.

"Cassandra?" Heather wondered, panicked. "Cassandra! Cassandra! Oh, God, _please_ wake up, Cassandra! Wake up!"

Cassandra opened her eyes to see her friend's concerned face. Green eyes met hazel.

"Oh, Cassandra! You're alright…" Heather held her close and glared up at Stanton. "We had a deal! You said she wouldn't be hurt! You promised!"

"I promise a lot of things to a lot of people, Heather." Stanton huffed, lighting another cigarette. "Whether I keep them or not is a different matter entirely."

Heather laid her gently on the ground and took a swing at Stanton. "You bastard!" She snarled.

Kelly appeared out of nowhere and forced the struggling girl to her knees.

"Relax, Heather. You knew this was coming." Kelly stated, cooing words of encouragement into Heather's face as warm angry tears spilled down her pristine cheeks. "There's nothing you can do. Look. Look at what you've done." She turned Heather ever so gently to face Cassandra.

"Heather…" Cassandra gasped. "I…I gave myself up for you…I saved you…"

"No one can save me." Heather muttered back. "It's too late, Cassandra…I know you tried. I never should have gotten involved with them…your mother was right…I'm not fit to be your friend…"

"My mother can't decide who my friends are…" Cassandra felt numb. "Only _I_ can do that…and I chose you…a long time ago, Heather Locklier…"

"Cassandra Kline, you always say the cheesiest things, you know that?" She escaped Kelly's grip and hugged her friend. "Thank you for trying…but I'm afraid we're both caught in the spider's web of lies."

Stanton wasn't facing them anymore, instead staring at the setting sun as he smoked slowly and gently.

"And now, neither of you will escape." He informed.

Cassandra reached to him. "I was going to be exchanged for her…she was going to go home…"

"She was never going home, Cassandra. Like you, she's one of _us_ now." Kelly giggled. "Another one for the Atrox. Another pure soul down the drain. _Swoosh_." She teased.

Eyes heavy and heart full of shreds of regret, Cassandra closed her eyes and slipped away into nothing; the shouts of her best friend echoing in her ears.

000

She never saw Heather again after that day. Rumor had it that she was shipped off to some obscure state, Idaho or something, to serve under another Follower; afraid she and Cassandra would work together to overthrow Stanton and the tiny empire he had worked so hard for so long to create. It wasn't until she and the others were ready to move to Kansas that she would learn the truth. Without saying a word to her, Tymmie tossed a newspaper onto the table in front of her. Cassandra tried to feel sorrow, rage…_something_ when she saw a familiar face printed on the second page of the obituaries. Only a few days prior to the newspaper's publication, Heather Locklier had taken her own life. The paper stated that she left a note expressing a consuming guilt over the disappearance of her best friend, Cassandra Kline. She was survived by an elder brother named Logan, both parents, and both sets of grandparents. With a huff, Cassandra rolled up the newspaper and swatted a fly in midair before throwing the paper away. She didn't shed a tear. From the day she joined Stanton and his crew, Heather was hiding behind a mask. And in the end, she let that mask consume her until she was no more.


	4. Tymmie Matthews and Karyl Asher (Part I)

Dlbn: Hello everyone! I'm here with another chapter! Sorry about the long delay. I thought I'd make this into one chapter, but I figured two chapters would be better.

Nbld: Let's start with the Review Corner! Thank you to…well…no one because no Reviews XD

Dlbn: So let's get to work!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Daughters of the Moon nor anyone or anything from it. That all belongs to Lynne Ewing. I make NO money off of writing in this category. However, I DO own Tymmie's family members and anyone else that isn't canon to the books.

000

Tymmie was only nine years old when his elder brother Mark was killed. He had been tending to the corn in one of the many fields behind their home while their father was away searching for work in the West. The economy was taking a downward spiral as gangs roamed the country sides in search of victims and payment. A group of local thugs had arrived on horseback. Tymmie hid in a back room of the farmhouse with his baby sister Ellie, only three years of age at the time, while the men entered their home and took their mother hostage. She cried out and begged them to release her.

"We don't have any money." She pleaded with the thugs. "Please, my husband is out West looking for work. We can't pay you nary a cent!"

"Shut up." One of the thugs ordered. "We don't need yer money. We can always take whatever else we can find. How about some of yer jewelry?"

"I don't have any fancy jewelry like the big city gals. You're welcome to take whatever I do have, though."

"That wedding ring there would do mighty fine. As would that necklace you're sporting."

"My necklace?" She wondered. "This was a gift from my mother when I was a child. You can't take it from me, I beg of you."

"I can do whatever I damn well please." The man cussed and ripped her necklace off.

Tymmie could hear pearls falling from the necklace and bouncing along the floor.

"Where's yer jewelry box, lady?"

"In the bedroom, on the dresser." She replied.

Tymmie heard her scream and beg as she was dragged into the bedroom to retrieve the item.

"Yeah, these will do _just_ fine." The thug cooed. "It may not be worth anything, but there's a lot of it."

"Hey!" A teenager's voice cried from the kitchen. "What do ya think yer doing with my ma?"

"Mark, baby, no! Run! Get outta here. Run away, far away!" His mother pleaded.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am." Mark informed. He aimed a sickle at the thug. "Now let her go, all nice and gentle like, and leave this place."

The man chuckled. "You don't know who yer dealing with, boy." He informed. "I'm Blue Bill Tanner, and I run this town! You're outta your league." The man cheered for himself. "Damn kid, trying to act like a man. If you're ready to fight like a man, then yer ready to die like one, too."

Tymmie heard the cocking of a pistol and quickly covered Ellie's ears so she wouldn't hear and cry out.

"I'm gonna be all nice-like and give ya til the count of three to surrender or I'll shoot."

"Mark, don't do anything foolish, baby. Get out of here while you can." His mother begged again.

"He'll either shoot me in the back or shoot me to my face, ma, and it would be more honorable of me to take a bullet to the face then the backside."

"A smart kid. I reckon we could all learn a lil something from _you_." Bill chuckled. "Too bad you won't be around long enough to teach it."

Bam. Bam. Two shots fired. His mother screamed out.

"That's it boys, let's get on outta here." Bill ordered. "We got what we came fer."

Tymmie waited until he could no longer hear the shouts of the men and beating of hoofs on the ground. He sprang from his hiding place, Ellie in his arms, and raced to his brother's side.

"Tymmie, Ellie! Oh there you are, all safe and sound." Their mother cooed, pressing a bloodstained rag to two little bullet holes in her eldest son's chest.

"What happened momma?" Tymmie was a little too young to understand. "Is Mark gonna be alright?"

"I'm afraid not, dearie…he's been shot, and the nearest doctor is miles away."

Mark coughed blood dripping from his mouth.

"I'm…mighty sorry…I-I couldn't save yer jewelry, momma." Mark huffed.

"Hush baby, none of that matters now." His mother stated. "You did your best, my darling. You proved yourself as a man today, Mark. My precious little angel…"

"Looks like…you'll be the man of the house…til father gets back…Tymmie…" Mark coughed blood as he looked at his brother. "You take care of momma and Ellie til father returns, you hear me?"

"Yes, Mark." Tymmie stated. "I hear ya loud and clear." Tears brimmed in his eyes to match his mother's.

Still not understanding what was going on, Ellie looked back and forth between her weeping mother and teary-eyed elder brother; soon to be her only brother.

"I wanna…be buried under the old Cyprus tree…in the back yard…okay, momma…?" Mark wondered. "I…I don't want no big fancy tombstone or nothing…oh, don't be sad, momma. Dry them tears, now. You've got two children to look after."

"Always the strong one, just like your father. He'd be mighty proud of you if he was here." She said, running her fingers through his sandy blonde hair one last time. "I know fer sure, I am."

"I am too, Mark, okay?" Tymmie wondered. "S-Say hello to mammy and pappy in heaven for me…"

"I'll…be sure to do that…" Mark took his brother's hand and coughed. "Take care of them, Tymmie. The fate of this family…rests on you now…I love ya Ellie. Momma, Tymmie…I love ya'll too…I…I see a light…"

"It's alright baby." Their mother cooed. "You can go into the light. Let God take you home."

Mark reached up with his hand that wasn't in Tymmie's grip. "I see…mammy…and pappy…they say hello, Tymmie…they say…hello…"

His eyes slowly slid shut, tears trickling down. His hand slowly fell to lie at his side before his head rolled to the side. Only a few moments passed before his chest stopped rising and blood ceased its flow from the wounds.

"Mark?" Tymmie wondered letting go of his brother's loosening hand. "Mark? Come on, Mark, wake up…this isn't funny, Mark. You're upsetting momma and scaring Ellie…please, Mark, please come back to us…please…" His voice caught in his throat as tears flowed.

His father would be ashamed to see him cry like this, but that was the last thing he cared about.

"He's gone, Tymmie…your brother's…in a better place now…" Their mother held her son's head in her lap and whispered a prayer.

"Mark…I'll protect momma and Ellie…I promise…I'll protect them no matter what…"

Bill and his crew never came back.

000

Sitting at a bar counter and nursing a cup of whiskey, Tymmie sighed as a fight broke out in the corner. These people were dull as dull could be. It was always the same stupid shit over and over again. People would get into drinking contests and then pissing matches over who was the bigger man, and it would lead to broken stools, broken bones, and disgust bubbling up in Tymmie's throat. Ever since his brother died eleven years ago, he had taken on the role as male parent in the household; both for his sister's safety and his mother's sanity. Just as Mark had wished it. His father came home once or twice a year before finally settling in the west and never returning. That was just fine with him, since he was never really a fan of the old drunkard in the first place. Ironic that when he turned eighteen, he'd become as much of a drinker as him.

Unable to bear the annoyance of fighting any longer, he slapped money on the counter to pay for his drinks and exited the bar. The southern warmth rained heavily down on his neck as he stepped outside. It had been hot in the bar as well, but something about being in direct sunlight made it all the more real. A coach went by, drawn by a black and cream colored steed, and he waited until it passed before continuing on his way. A group of girls stood near the saloon across the street, fanning themselves off as bonnets failed to cover their heads. He recognized a young blonde haired woman with her hair in ringlets and wearing a blue, ground length dress. She spotted him walking towards her and waved a dainty hand, before picking up her dress at the knees and trotting over in small heels.

"Tymmie, Tymmie, look!" She greeted, bowing slightly to him. "Isn't this marvelous? Gabriel got it for me. I look like a real southern belle now, don't I?"

"It looks great, Ellie." He confirmed, giving a nod to a young man standing near the saloon.

"I'm glad you like it." She smiled. "He wants me to wear it to dinner tonight. We're going to go somewhere real fancy for dining."

"Are you now?" He wondered. "Shall I have a talk with Gabriel about just how far he's taking you?"

She slapped him with her fan. "Oh, why do you have to ruin such a good thing by being a creep, Tymmie?" She giggled. "He doesn't mean no harm. We'll be fine. It's only a little ways out of town. The next town over."

"He does realize you're only fifteen, doesn't he?" Tymmie glared at the man at the saloon, making him shrink back.

"Oh, don't you worry, now." She ordered him. "It's normal for a young woman my age to be courted, is it not? It's a wonder you haven't found a nice southern gal of yer own."

He shrugged. "I'm not really looking, if you couldn't tell. I have bigger things to worry about then dating and women."

"Like what?" She cocked an eyebrow. "You don't do much other than drink and once and a while deliver mail."

He shrugged. "I have a life, you know."

"Your list of friends is severely lacking."

He shrugged once more. "The less people you let close to ya, the less you get hurt."

She rolled her eyes. "That's really sad, Tymmie. You're breaking momma's heart, you know."

He sighed. "Don't drag momma into this conversation." He ordered her.

"But…"

"Ellie May, hold your tongue."

She glared but did as he told her to. The young man near the saloon walked over, tipping his hat as he did so.

"Morning, Tymmie." He greeted. "Lovely day today, is it not?"

"Morning, Gabriel." Tymmie replied. "I guess it is."

"He's been hitting the sauce a little early this morning, Gabe, don't mind him." Ellie rolled her eyes.

Tymmie slung an arm around her waist and gave her a hug. "I had one pint before those two buffoons began tussling." He nodded back towards the bar, where the two feuding men were being hauled out by a fair haired sheriff.

"Bunch of buffoons." Gabriel commented. "Some people just shouldn't be drinking."

"I second that notion." Tymmie nodded, letting go of his sister. "Ellie says you're going out of town for dinner?"

"Nowhere too far, just outside of town. We'll only be gone a few hours. I'll have her back by sundown."

"You can just bring her home if you'd like." Tymmie stated. "Momma asked me to deliver a welcome message to you."

"Thank you, I am much obliged."

"Think nothing of it." Tymmie stated.

"Hey, Tymmie." The sheriff's voice carried over as he joined the trio. "Shouldn't you be delivering the mail, boy?"

"Main doesn't go around til high noon. You know that, Sheriff. Stop busting my back over it."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, boy. Morning Ellie, Gabriel."

"Morning, Sheriff." They greeted as one, Ellie bowing and Gabriel tipping his hat.

"Don't wait too long o that mail. We've got a big bag that came in. You might want to get cracking early or you'll be out all day." He handed a sack of mail to Tymmie. "Get to getting."

"Alright, alright." Tymmie rolled his eyes. "I'll see you later tonight, Ellie. Take care of her, Gabe."

"I will, don't you worry." Gabe went to put his arm around her, but a warning glare from her brother made him second guess.

"Get to getting." The Sheriff slapped Tymmie on the back.

The brunette scowled and sighed. "See you later."

"Later."

Hauling the bag over his shoulder and taking out a handful of mail, Tymmie began his rounds.

000

Sundown had passed about an hour ago, but Ellie and Gabriel still hadn't returned to the Matthews family home. Tymmie was pacing on the front porch in worry, his mother sitting in a rocking chair in the far corner, knitting.

"Why don't you have a seat, Tymmie?" She wondered. "Ellie's in good hands with Gabriel. She'll be home in no time."

"I can't help but assume the worst, momma." Tymmie argued.

"You always assume the worst." She chuckled. "Do try not to worry so much. You'll go grey early, and then where are you gonna find a gal?"

"Are you and Ellie both on the 'Tymmie needs a woman' bandwagon or something?"

"Did your sister start on you again this morning? Ever since Gabe came around, she's been gun-ho on you finding a gal and settling down, too."

"Too?"

"She thinks he's the one, that's all." Momma replied with a soft smile, stopping in her knitting briefly. "I have to agree with her, honestly."

"Hm." Tymmie nodded and resumed his pacing. "I'd think him the one for her too, if he'd get her back within the new few minutes."

"I'm sure he will be. Ah, I hear someone now."

The Sheriff pulled up on horseback. The grey-black mare neighed and huffed as she stomped the ground. He dismounted and gripped her reins.

"Evening, ma'am." He greeted, tipping his hat. "Evening, Tymmie."

"Why, Sheriff Atkins, how mighty fine it is to see you." Momma set aside her knitting. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Was something wrong with the mail this morning?"

"Nothing's wrong with the mail, ma'am. I'm afraid I am here as the bearer of much more grave news."

"Grave news?" She paled.

"Is it Ellie?" Tymmie wondered. "Is she alright, Sheriff?"

"The Marlin family coach was found alongside a few kilometers outside of town, towards Havensport." The Sheriff replied. "No one was inside, and all valuables have seemed to have gone missing. We're not entirely sure what happened, but we're thinking the carriage was overtaken by thieves."

"Thieves?" Momma fainted.

Tymmie rushed to catch her, landing on his knees and holding her head in his lap. He brushed stray brown curls out of her face.

"They were overtaken by thieves?" He wondered. "Or were you fainting it down for momma?"

The look on the Sheriff's face told him all he needed to know.

"Who was it?"

"No one's quite certain, but word has come from Havensport that ol' Blue Bill and his crew has been spotted a little ways up north."

Tymmie felt his heart drop. The man that murdered his brother in cold blood, his thirteen year old brother, had attacked his sister and her beloved? That man had something against the family, whatever it was, that was for sure. Unless they were _really_ that unlucky to the point where they crossed paths with him more than once.

"I have my best men on the job." Sheriff Atkins stated. "I know that don't mean much, and I know your family has history with Bill, but we _are _doing what we can."

"Bill's good at hiding. If he knows you're looking, he won't show his face around."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Silence passed between the two men. It was broken nervously by the Sheriff.

"If there's anything I can do…"

"…You can help me get momma into bed."

Sheriff Atkins nodded and climbed the stair. Gently picking the elderly woman up under her arms, he helped her son carry her to bed.

000

Tymmie adjusted the hat on top of his head as he walked down a lonely dirt road towards Havensport. Momma had begged him not to go looking for Bill, that she couldn't bear to lose all three of her kids, let alone two in within the span of a few weeks. But once she realized he wasn't about to let up, she relented and packed him a satchel of materials to keep him safe and taken care of until he could find solace in Havensport. There hadn't been much information about Bill or the disappearance of Ellie and Gabriel, but both families were in mourning and sharing what little information they could pass between them.

Tymmie sighed and wiped his brow. Why had he insisted on leaving near high noon, when the sun was the strongest? Sometimes he cursed himself for just not thinking. He stopped on the road as he came across a rather peculiar sight. A pale man around his age, seemingly, lay on the side of the road in a patch of grass, using a rock as a shield from anyone walking past. Tymmie cocked an eyebrow and set his satchel down before going over to check on the man.

"You alright, partner?" He wondered gently. "Hey, mister, wake up."

He was tempted to poke the man with a stick to see if he would awaken when he didn't receive a reply from him. He was about to move on again when he heard movement and looked down.

"I'm fine." The man stated, blinking one cobalt blue eye up at his new, temporary companion. "Just taking a rest." He sat up and stretched. "I was on my way to Havensport. It's a long trip."

"Where are you coming from? And do you even know where you're going? The road forks with no warning up ahead."

"It does? Well shoot." He sighed, brushing himself off. "I'm coming up from Willamsgain."

"That's a three day trip by carriage alone."

"So you see why I lay down to rest?" The man laughed.

"Yeah, I guess so." Tymmie shrugged. "A word of advice? Next time, try not to sleep in a ditch. Someone might call the coroner on ya, and I don't think you'd take too kindly to waking up in a morgue or a shallow grave."

"I'll keep that in mind." The man stood. "Name's Stanton, by the way."

"Tymmie Matthews." He replied. "No last name?"

"Naw."

"Oh." Tymmie paused. "That's unusual."

Stanton shrugged. "I guess." He stated. "Say, are you headed towards Havensport? You seem to know the path pretty well."

"Yeah, I have business up there." Tymmie confirmed.

"Would it be a bother if I asked for accompaniment?" Stanton smiled gently. "I'd hate to hit this fork and go the wrong way, just to turn around again."

"This is a solo trip I'm going on." Tymmie stated. "I'll bring you to Havensport, but then we go our separate ways, alright?"

"Alright." Stanton grabbed a satchel from behind the rock and pulled out a canteen. He took a swig before offering it to his new guide.

"I've got my own, thanks." Tymmie returned to his satchel and picked it up. "I'm not one for companionship or small talk, so you'll have to pardon me if I ignore you completely on the way."

"How social of you." Stanton laughed. "I understand. I'm not too social myself."

"You hide it well." Tymmie stated flatly. "Let's get going. It's hotter than hell out here."

"That's the south for you."

Tymmie shrugged.

Without another word on the subject, the two men began their travel up the road towards the fork.

"You said you have business in Havensport?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright."

"Your purpose?"

"I…don't really want to talk about that either." His ears reddened as if he were embarrassed.

That, or he was unfortunate enough to get a sunburn in such a strange place.

"What, you get run out of town or something?"

"Ah, something like that, yeah."

"Lovely."

"They accused me of practicing witchcraft and aiding a witch." Stanton sighed. "She was such a pretty little thing, too. Too bad they went and hung her."

"That's more information then I needed."

Silence.

"She your girl or something?"

"A guy like me doesn't have gals." Stanton said. "I'm the kind of guy their parents warn them away from."

Tymmie huffed. "You don't seem that dangerous to me."

"Looks can be deceiving. Never forget that."

"Yeah."

Despite his earlier warning of hating small talk, such talk continued long after their journey began.

000

Havensport was a small city, but it was slightly bigger than Tymmie's hometown. He could tell that Stanton was slightly overwhelmed; not surprising considering that he was from a town smaller than Tymmie's own. He felt bad for ditching the blonde in a saloon, but he had more important things to do then wet his whiskers and drown his sorrow in whiskey. Stanton had bid him farewell and shared hopes that their paths would cross again. Tymmie didn't know why, but he had a feeling that they would. He didn't share it with the blonde, though, and continued on his own way to a local inn. He slammed his bag unceremoniously onto the counter.

The man behind the counter jumped and turned away from the boxes behind the counter.

"Ah, good tidings, friend." He greeted. "What can I do ya for?"

"I need a place to stay for the night. Got any open rooms?" Tymmie didn't bother returning the sentiment.

"We've got a couple open." The man stated. "Fifty cents a night."

"Alright."

They exchanged currency and keys before Tymmie took his satchel and went to his room. He stayed in the room only five minutes before vacating the inn and going out in search of information.

"Howdy, stranger." A young man greeted him. "Welcome to Havensport."

"Thanks." Tymmie wanted to brush this guy off, but he felt obligated to give some kind of response.

"Ever need anything, just hop on into the general store." The boy informed. "My pa's the owner. He'll give you a real nice deal. A welcoming deal for a new friend!"

"New friend?"

This kid was obnoxious.

"A friend always starts out as a stranger."

"I see." Tymmie sighed. "Well, see you later, kid."

"Have a great day, mister!"

"Yeah." Tymmie rolled his shoulders back and continued on his way.

He found the jailhouse and sighed. The best place to start looking for information on a criminal like Bill was the sheriff. He opened the door and walked in. A sheriff and a deputy were sitting inside the jailhouse. The sheriff was sleeping with his hat tipped down over his face and his feet up on the desk, and the deputy sat in a chair looking at papers. Tymmie cleared his throat when no one noticed him. The sheriff startled and almost slipped from his chair, but stayed put.

"I wasn't asleep, mayor, I swear." He informed.

"That's not the mayor, sheriff. Open your eyes." The deputy scolded.

The Sheriff did as suggested, tipping his hat up to reveal eyes covered by spectacles.

"Ah, so it's not." He greeted. "You ain't from Havensport, are you?"

"No, I'm not." Tymmie confirmed. "I came up from the south."

"Where south?"

"Westson."

"Ah, not too far from here then. What can I do ya for, stranger? If you're looking for a job, we ain't hiring." He chuckled.

"Aw, come on, Sheriff. No one comes in here looking for a job. It's either they did something or someone did something to them." The deputy replied. "I'm Deputy Miller. This is Sheriff Dougan."

"Pleased to make your acquaintances." Tymmie nodded. "I'm here for information, on the contrary."

"Information as to what?" the Sheriff wondered, finally taking his feet off the desk and sitting up.

"I heard that Blue Bill Tanner's been spotted a little north of here." Tymmie stated. "Did he have anyone with him? Hostages, prisoners, maybe? A young blonde belle with honey eyes and a raven haired male with green?"

"Awfully specific. Did something happen in Weston?"

"My sister and her suitor came over this way for dinner last night and never came back. The sheriff reported that their carriage was overtaken by thieves, most likely Bill himself."

"It's not entirely wise to discuss him around here." The deputy warned. "People that discuss ol' Bill tend to not make it through the night, if you get what I'm saying."

"I'm aware." Tymmie grit his teeth. "This goes back to more than just my sister and Gabriel going missing." He sighed. "Bill happened upon our homestead when I was a child and slayed our elder brother."

"This is a blood feud then, it would seem." The Sheriff informed, leaning back in his chair again. "What of your ma and pa?"

"Momma's home, waiting for us to come back. As for father, I'd rather not talk about that. A dark spot on my history, that's all he is."

"Absent or abusive?"

Tymmie blinked, not really wanting to reply. "He came home sometimes, but he's settled out west. Didn't even ask us to join him."

"I don't think it's just happenstance that brought Bill to your homestead when you were a boy."

"What makes you say that?"

"'Ol Bill's from out west." California, I think." The deputy seemed to have a hard time pronouncing the name of the newly acquired territory. "Your father may have crossed paths with him and unintentionally pissed him off."

"I see." Tymmie bit his lip. "All that aside, what do you know about this guy?"

"The most we know are what rumors bring to us, and I'm sure those rumors have graced Weston. Our towns have always been pretty close, and not just geographic." The Sheriff stated. "If you're looking for your sister, that's mighty noble of you to do. But you're heading down a path for trouble. I suggest you don't look too far into it and let the law do so."

"The law rolls over for men like Bill."

The deputy opened his mouth to say something, but the door to the office burst open.

"Sheriff, you may wanna get down to the courthouse. There's a commotion a brewing!" The irritating boy from the general store spoke.

"Ah hells." The Sheriff put on his hat and adjusted it. "I'll need backup. You're welcome to stay here for a bit, Tymmie, but I won't be insulted if you leave."

He nodded and watched the Sheriff and deputy leave. The boy didn't come in, thankfully. Tymmie looked around the Sheriff's office. It looks pretty similar to the one in Weston. A desk sat in front of the Sheriff's chair, and another desk and chair sat near the back for the deputy. A small jail cell with one lonely cot sat in the back. A young man was sleeping with his back to Tymmie, probably sleeping off the after effects of drunken escapades the night before.

Tymmie sighed and plopped down at the deputy's desk.

"He ain't gonna tell you nothing. You're wasting your time." The man on the cot stated.

"You're awake?" Tymmie wondered. "It's impolite to eavesdrop."

The man chuckled, turning over to face him. "I'm in jail. I highly think I would care about politeness, wouldn't you think?"

The man on the cot was tanned and had long black hair spilling down his shoulders. A feather adorned his hair. He was a native, but he was dressed much like Tymmie in khaki pants, and a button up shirt.

"You're a native?" Tymmie asked. "That your crime?"

The man snorted. "Yeah, I wish it was." He stated. "I got accused of making passes at this guy's gal, and we got into a brawl." He was sheepish. "My parents are going to have my head when I get home…"

"You live around here?"

The man nodded. "Just down the road." He stated.

"It's rather unusual for a native to live in a town like this…"

"I was raised by a pale faced couple. Ma found me wandering around the desert, half dead, when I was a kid and they took me in." The man sighed. "They've sacrificed so much to raise me. People just aren't very accepting of difference."

"Tell me about it."

His mother had gotten a lot of guff from people for raising her children on her own when she knew her husband was alive. She didn't have much of a choice in the matter, but no one really cared. Sheriff Atkins was the one person in town that had shut down the rumors and the talk from the local gossip hens. Tymmie respected him for it, but didn't think much of it beyond one friend sticking up for another. That wasn't to say that he was completely blind to the looks that the Sheriff would send his mother's way when she walked around town shopping.

"You know anything about Bill?"

"Blue Bill Tanner? Mostly what I've heard. But I can help you find him."

"You can?"

"I may have been raised by pale faces," the Native informed, "but that doesn't mean I'm not in touch with some of my roots. I'm a tracker. Mighty good at it too."

"It may prove beneficial for me to have you along, then."

"See, that would be all fine and dandy, but I'm stuck in here for who knows how long?" The native sighed. "But, if you could spring me somehow…"

"Sheriff Atkins back home would have my head if I did that and he found out."

"Who says he has to find out? You say you left a little while after the Sheriff did and no one can say you helped me."

"No one but the people outside that could see us leave together."

"Didn't you hear Calvin? The store boy?" The native chuckled. "There's a ruckus going on down at the courthouse. That majority of the town that isn't home-bound will be there. This is Havensport, not Weston. Stuff like that draws a crowd, not disgusts it."

"Hm I suppose…" Tymmie walked to the window near the deputy's desk and peered out towards the courthouse.

Three young men were fighting while the Sheriff and his deputy struggled to separate them all. There was a large crowd gathered around the courthouse, watching the scene. Men were jeering and cheering on the feuding trio, and a few women were standing together exchanged worried glances and most likely hushed words.

"Alright, you have a point. How do I get you out of there?"

"The deputy always forgets his keys." The man stood and walked to the edge of the jail cell, one hand gripping the bar of the cage and the other pointing to a set of keys on the deputy's desk.

"How did I not see that…?" Tymmie sighed and grabbed the keys. He tried each one until one clicked into place and he pulled the door open.

The native exited the cell, shutting the door behind him. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"I'm only doing this to find my sister, alright? Bill already took my brother. He's not getting my sister, too."

"My condolences." The native stated.

Tymmie shrugged. "It's been years." He stated. "Do you have a name?"

"Karyl is the name my pale face family gave me." The Native shrugged. "But it is not my true name."

"Then what's yer true name? I asked you, didn't I?" Tymmie huffed.

The Native rolled his eyes. "I don't know my true name. I don't know my true family or my ancestors. 'Karyl' is the only name I got."

"Then I guess that's what I'll be calling ya from now on then, isn't it?"

Karyl smiled. "I guess so." He confirmed. "And you?"

"Tymmie Matthews."

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Tymmie."

"Yours as well." Tymmie nodded. "Let's get out of here before they come back."

"They'll be busy for a while, but I share the sentiment." Karyl took the keys and locked the cell again before putting the keys back in their original spot. "They'll spend all day trying to figure out how I managed to get out of there."

"I get the feeling that they're…"

"Useless?"

"I was going to say that they were bad at their jobs, but okay."

Karyl shrugged. "Shall we?" He led Tymmie out of the building.

"So where do we start?"

"First we're gonna be needing some supplies. I know Bill's headed out north. So we should prepare."

"How do you know he's headed north?"

"Well, fer one, you told the Sheriff that rumor had it. Otherwise, I've heard it already because I just listen."

"Sensible."

Calvin rushed over. "What are you doing, Karyl?" He wondered. "You're going to get caught!"

"Relax. I won't." Karyl stated. "We're going on a hunt for someone. Who started this?" He nodded towards the courthouse.

"Some guy that's new to town."

"Blonde, cobalt eyes, doesn't shut the hell up?"

"Yeah, that's about right." Calvin blinked.

"You know him?" Karyl wondered. "Did he come up here with you?"

"He says he was coming from Willamsgain. He was sleeping in a ditch when I happened across him. We walked up this way together, but he isn't my friend or nothing."

"You came up here on your own?" Calvin wondered. "Wow, Mister, you must be determined to find something!"

"He's from Weston, he's a local." Karyl stated. "Is your father in the store? Would he be able to get us some supplies?"

"Sure as sugar." Calvin nodded. "Come on, before the sheriff and the deputy get things settled."

Tymmie and Karyl followed the young boy to the store. Stanton was leaning against the doorframe when they arrived.

"Hey, what do you know? Our paths crossed again." He greeted Tymmie.

"Yeah, I'll say. You started that drama?"

"Perhaps."

"No wonder you got run out of town. Witchcraft. Ha."

Stanton shrugged. "That part was true. You needed a distraction, did you not?"

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"I just knew."

"How…?"

"Don't ask questions you may not want the answers to." Stanton's eyes flared with something that Tymmie couldn't place.

"Alright." He scratched at his head.

Karyl nodded at Stanton in thanks for the distraction and walked past him into the store.

"Gramps!" Karyl called out. "Ya here?"

An older gentleman walked out of the back room. "Karyl?" He wondered. "I thought the sheriff had you on lockdown."

"Yeah, he let me go. He just doesn't know it yet."

The man sighed. "You're going to get yourself into big trouble one day, Karyl, and prejudice isn't going to be a good enough defense when that day comes."

"I know." Karyl stated. "I'm careful. Besides, I'm just out to help a friend."

"I'm not a friend." Tymmie protested, causing Stanton to cock an eyebrow.

Karyl ignored him. "If the sheriff wants me back, I'll go back when we're done, no trouble."

The man nodded. "What do you need?"

"We're heading north. He's looking for Blue Bill. What kind of supplies can you get us?"

"Blue Bill? Are you crazy?" Calvin wondered. "That's a suicide mission!"

"Why in the heavens would you be doing that?" The man wondered.

"He may have someone very important to me." Tymmie stated. "And I intend on getting her back. Her suitor, however, can rot there for all I care."

"Ah, a sister." The man smirked. "Well, let's see. What do you need?"

"Food, water, anything else you can think of?"

"I'll toss in some matches, some cloth, and a few personal items. Anything else you thinking you might need? A weapon perhaps?"

"Some peroxide and bandages, if you would." Tymmie added.

"And toss in a weapon or two if you have it." Karyl stated, leaning on the counter casually. "Whatever you think is best."

"I'll go grab a gun from the back, poppa." Calvin offered.

"Be careful if you do." His father warned.

The boy nodded and rushed towards the back.

"I don't think we'll need a gun…" Tymmie began to object.

"If you're going up against 'ol Bill, you're going to need a lot more than just a knife or yer bare hands." Gramps warned. "I would take it if I were you. If it turns out you don't need it, just send it back."

"Better to be over prepared then under prepared." Gramps shrugged.

"I reckon yer right."

Calvin came back, carefully carrying a small pistol and a box of bullets. "Here you go, mister!" He offered them to Tymmie.

When he didn't take them, Stanton did. "It's impolite to just stare when someone offers you something." He stated, setting the items down on the counter top.

"Bill used a gun to murder my brother in front of my mother while my baby sister and I hid in a closet. I held my brother's hand when he died bleeding out." Tymmie snarled. "I hate guns and I never intend on using one of the damned things. That's why I don't want to take it…"

"Violence is against my nature." Karyl stated, putting a hand up. "I don't like it and it makes me sick."

"Says the boy who got locked up for fighting." Gramps chuckled, a sparkle in his eyes.

Karyl laughed. "I kept telling ya'll that I didn't do it, but no one wants to believe me."

"If you cry 'prejudice' again, yer momma's gonna rip your hide." Calvin warned, sticking out his tongue.

"Put that tongue away, or I'm gonna rip it out of your mouth." Karyl warned with a laugh.

"I thought he didn't like violence?" Stanton whispered.

Tymmie shrugged.

"He says it, but he's full of it." Gramps informed. "Well, Calvin got the gun, so someone should take it."

"I'll take it, if you don't mind." Stanton stated. "That is, if you don't mind me going with the two of you?"

"Not really." Tymmie shrugged.

"A little more help would be quite…helpful…?"

"Well put." Calvin rolled his eyes.

"I tried so hard not to make that pun…"

"And you failed." Stanton chuckled.

"Well no more standing around here jabbering." Gramps stated. "I don't need the sheriff and the deputy banging down my door looking for ya."

"Yeah, I don't wanna cause you any trouble neither." Karyl confirmed. "We'll be off then."

Tymmie pulled money out of his pocket, but Gramps stopped him.

"We don't charge friends here." He winked.

"We're not really…I mean, I barely know any of…er…thanks?"

The others laughed.

"Someone isn't used to human contact." Stanton chided.

Tymmie rolled his eyes at the blonde. "Alright, lay off. Yer as bad as momma and Ellie."

"Ellie your girl?" Karyl wondered.

"My sister. I don't have a girl. Don't need one."

"Shame." Gramps sighed. "Too many young men are thinking that nowadays and letting good birthing years go to waste."

Tymmie shrugged. "I got momma and Ellie, and that's all I need.

"Fair's fair." Karyl gathered the items and shoved them into a satchel.

"Hold on!" Calvin left and returned a few minutes later with a satchel of food and three full canteens of fresh water. "You'll need this too!"

Stanton took the satchel and they each took a canteen.

"Thank you." Tymmie stated.

"Yer most welcome." Gramps smiled. "Now scram, kids. Go get your sister back. Best of luck to ya."

"You better come back in one piece, you hear me?" Calvin wondered, putting his fists on his hips. "I won't forgive you if you don't come back, especially you, Karyl!"

"I'll be fine." Karyl ruffled his hair. "Shall we depart?"

The three men exited the store, being shooed out a backdoor by Gramps.

"Where to?" Stanton wondered.

"You two go to the northern outskirts of town and wait for me." Tymmie ordered. "Hit the edge of town and keep walking for a couple feet, so you won't be seen. I have stuff at the inn that I need to get."

"Alright, stay safe." Karyl stated.

He and Stanton nodded to one another and departed.


End file.
